


For Love of a Wolf: Alric's Story

by seductivembrace



Series: LiT!verse [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: A/U, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 64,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second book in the <i>Lost in Time</i>-verse. Buffy and company have left Sunnydale and are ready to take on the next "Big Bad".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While you'll still see Buffy & Spike, this story is about Alric.

_She was cold._

_And in pain._

_But it wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. Her heart was pumping away, as if it was trying to make up for the time it had been silent. But that didn’t bother her. It was the wound in her neck that hurt. Marcus had torn the skin rather savagely to perpetuate the story of her being ravaged by a wild animal. With the medical staff centered on that as the reason for her dying, no attention would be paid to the two miniscule puncture wounds in her arm._

_Never again, she silently promised herself as she lay there unmoving. Never again. If they had to kill her off in the future, they were just going to have to come up with some better means of accomplishing the feat._

_With her eyes still closed, Buffy tried to figure out where she was. Something had been drawn over her head. A sheet, probably. Beneath it, she could tell that her shirt and bra had been ripped open – her bare nipples also feeling the cool, rougher cloth lying against them, rather than the silky texture of her lingerie._

_She realized then that she was lying on a steel slab, which was contributing to her feeling chilled. The cool metal sapping what little warmth her body had._

_Sounds drifted about the room, though they were muffled, and she forced herself to remain unmoving. It wouldn’t do to spoil all the work they’d gone through to fake her death, only to have it ruined by her carelessness._

_She wanted Spike though. Wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her._

_The shuffling noise finally stopped, and Buffy heard a door being shut. She waited another moment, listening intently, and when nothing but the silence of an empty room echoed in the darkness, she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes._

_And gasped at the overwhelming darkness._

_Too dark, she thought frantically. Like she’d not even opened her eyes._

_Her hand lifted automatically to peel back the sheet from her face._

_Pitch black._

_Oh god._

_Her arms shot out, but had barely moved from her side when they slammed into something hard. A metal clunk echoed in her ears. Her heart rate began to skyrocket as she felt all around her, trying to determine just where she was, and why it was so damn dark. Her breathing became ragged, on the verge of hyperventilating._

_Buffy knew she was making noise, the palms of her hands now slapping at the metal walls surrounding her. But she needed to get out. She could tell whatever she was locked inside was small. Too damn small for her peace of mind._

_‘Let me out,’ she silently cried. ‘Spike, where are you?’_

_Buffy didn’t recognize the tingles announcing Spike’s presence looming closer, or the lack of darkness as the tiny compartment was flooded with light and the metal slat rolled free. Nothing penetrated her increasing panic until Spike had her in his arms, soothing her with whispered words and soft growls._

_“I’m here, love. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Breathe, Buffy. Just breathe…”_

~*~

“Buffy…”

Buffy woke with a start, her heart ready to explode out of her chest it was beating so fast.

_Nightmare_ , she realized. _Just a nightmare._

She felt strong arms wrapped around her, holding her loosely. Spike. Buffy murmured his name and tried to squeeze herself closer to him – not that it was really possible. But he seemed to take the hint and tightened his hold about her back.

“Bad dream, luv?”

She nodded into his chest.

Her respect for the undead had grown in the wake of her dealings in the morgue. She’d only been locked inside the cold chamber for a few minutes once she’d come to, but it was long enough that she knew she’d never want to go through something like that again. Never mind having to crawl her way out from six feet under.

It was a good thing Spike had taken her out of the room not long afterwards.

Clayton had appeared moments after Spike had set her free, hefting a body bag over his shoulder. Her gasp had echoed in the room when he’d unzipped it and she’d gotten a look at what, or rather _who_ , was inside.

“It’s just a glamour spell,” Clayton had rushed to reassure her. “It’ll wear off once the body’s cremated.”

Buffy remembered nodding, her eyes locked on the girl being laid on the cool slab she’d recently vacated. Forgetting momentarily her state of undress, until Clayton shrugged out of his coat and held it out to her.

She’d smiled and pulled off her torn shirt and brassiere, wincing slightly when the move stretched the flesh at her neck. She’d forgotten. Marcus had taken a nice chunk out of her neck.

Her eyes had flown to Spike’s face, gauging his reaction. He’d not been happy.

_At all._

Buffy had opened her mouth to try and explain, but she’d been silenced with a look. One that she knew not to argue with. Her mouth had shut, and she’d been pulled up against Spike. A few quick swipes of his tongue had started the healing process.

Now, her eyes darted around the cabin, looking for Marcus. He wasn’t far away, Angelina tucked against his side. He smiled slightly at seeing her concern, but Buffy saw that it didn’t reach his eyes.

Apparently Spike hadn’t spoken to him yet.

She lifted her eyebrow, asking him without words, if he wanted her to talk to her husband. Frowning at the slight shake of his head.

Whatever happened was between him and his sire, and her interference would only make matters worse. Spike’s words in her ear confirmed as much.

“It’s between him and me, Slayer.”

“But—” The objection slipped out by habit. Buffy was in full “momma” mode; she didn’t like to see any member of her clan at odds with their sire.

“Leave it be, Buffy. I know it was necessary. I _do_. Bloody hell. I even knew he was going to do it. Doesn’t mean…” Spike’s voice trailed off, unable to explain.

“It’s a vampire thing?” she asked.

“It’s a sire thing. I’d do the same if it were any of them.”

Buffy glanced around, not surprised to see a few heads nodding. A couple even bore smiles. She rolled her eyes. So much for it being a private conversation.

She understood, really she did. Didn’t mean she still wouldn’t try to take the brunt of his perceived anger.

“Would it make any difference if I told you that I made him do it?”

Spike snorted.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you, luv?”

Buffy giggled and snuggled closer.

She looked up as the door to the cockpit opened and Bob stepped out.

Though he was in the company of ten of the world’s most deadly vampires, he didn’t hesitate as he walked through the main cabin towards where Spike sat. Buffy had learned that Bob, as well as several other humans, knew about their existence, much like Travis and the others had, at least up to a point. That each of their “executive” employees had proven themselves trustworthy countless times.

“Hi, Bob,” Buffy greeted the man once he reached them.

“Miss Buffy.” He nodded and turned to Spike. “Steve wanted me to tell you that we’ll be landing at JFK within the hour. The sun will be up, as I’m sure you’re aware, but I’ve a car waiting in our private hangar, so that won’t pose a problem.”

“Good.” Spike glanced over at Adam. “We’re all set?”

“Yes. Joseph will meet up with Jocelyn tonight at _The Cavern_. She’ll take him back to her place, be seen on his arm for a few days, then fly with him back to England.”

“I want you both there by week’s end,” Spike told Joseph. “And guard her close. Renee knows this needs to be done, but she’s not happy about their separation. You have your cover story?”

Joseph nodded.

“Good. We’ve got a few hours while Steve has his mandatory downtime then we’re flying out. The situation in London is about to come to a head, and we need to step in before it becomes a problem.”

Grim nods accompanied Spike’s announcement.

~*~*~*~*~

The phone rang, just as it had been doing over the last several days. Ever since Buffy had disappeared, in fact. He didn’t need an answering machine to tell him who it was. He’d already spoken briefly with the Council, and been informed rather haughtily by Quentin Travers that he was well aware of both slayers’ deaths, and that only a single slayer had been called at their joint passing.

Apparently, with Buffy’s brief death at the hands of the Master, her ability to “pass on” her slayer essence wasn’t possible – not that she’d really died anyway. Giles had wanted to crawl through the phone and ram his fist into the sanctimonious ass’ face. Only the thought of inadvertently letting slip Buffy’s new path in life had kept him quiet. He’d nodded, mumbling a distracted, “of course,” then rang off with the promise he’d return to England as soon as possible. After he’d seen to the final details of both Buffy and Kendra.

No, it wasn’t Travers calling, or even anyone from the Council. He was scheduled to fly out in the morning to give his final report on Buffy’s death and be assimilated back into another aspect of the Council’s machinations, so there’d be no need for them to call. He’d already given his formal resignation to Mr. Snyder, citing a family emergency needing his immediate return to England as his reason for giving such short notice.

That had been Thursday, the morning after Buffy had “died.”

A beep sounded in the otherwise silent room, and then a soft feminine voice was heard on the recorder.

“Rupert… it’s me… Jenny… again. Call me.”

He ignored it, like he had all her other attempts to speak with him – guilt being a strong motivator. The blinking red light mocked his cowardice, his betrayal.

Because not once since his Slayer’s disappearance had he thought about the woman he’d been slowly romancing. Then he’d gone even one step further, and out of nowhere, feelings for his slayer’s mother had surfaced.

_Joyce Summers._

Just thinking her name made him curse himself repeatedly. Giles took another swig from the glass of the whisky held in his hand, something he’d been doing a lot of lately. He ran the other through his unkempt hair and down over his face, wincing slightly at the few day’s growth of beard marring his normally clean-shaven chin. Since Buffy’s memorial service, he’d done nothing but drink himself into a stupor, but even with the several bottles littering his once-pristine coffee table, Giles found himself unable to seek the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Instead, he was wide awake, his emotions tumbling arse over tit as he thought about the two women in his life.

Tomorrow morning couldn’t come soon enough in his estimation.

He should get up and make use of the shower, wash away the stench of body odor and alcohol seeping from his pores. Pack a few things for his trip home. Maybe even attempt to sleep for a few hours.

Another hour passed before he roused himself. The clock on the wall chimed eight times, informing him as to the lateness of the hour. He stood on legs weak with disuse, his body swaying slightly thanks to the copious amounts of liquor he’d consumed.

Giles was halfway up the stairs when there was a knock at the door. He ignored it, climbing another step or two when a familiar voice called out.

“Open up, Rupert. I know you’re in there.”

Heavier pounding this time.

“Dammit, Giles! Open the door.”

Giles sighed wearily and retraced his steps. He opened the door, leaning heavily against the doorjamb.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“I thought you said all you had to say. I let her go. What more do you want from me?”

“This is not about Buffy. Well, in a roundabout way, I guess you could say it is. But this is about the woman you’re seeing.”

“Jenny Calendar?”

“You say Jenny, I say Janna. Tomato… tomato… potato… potato.”

Giles rubbed wearily at his eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Got a minute?”

Giles stepped back and waved Doyle inside.

“I’ll be brief. Angel and I, we’re leaving town soon. Tomorrow night, as a matter of fact. Really no point in sticking around. Anyway, I did it for Spike, so I suppose I could do it for you too.”

“Spike? What does—?”

“Sorry. Nothing. Speaking out loud. What I wanted to tell you was that Miss Calendar isn’t who she appears to be. She’s been playing you, been playing all of you. And if this thing with Buffy hadn’t occurred, bad things, _really_ bad things would have happened.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

Doyle hesitated for a minute on what exactly to say. In the end, deciding to only mention the gypsy’s duplicity.

“Look. Jenny Calendar… her real name is Janna. Of the Kalderash people. She’s a gypsy. From the same tribe that cursed Angel. She’s been using you, getting close to you and Buffy, _and_ the others, to keep an eye on him.”

Another knock sounded before Giles could respond to the emissary’s announcement.

With Buffy gone and Doyle here, only three people would have cause to visit his home – Giles had discounted both Xander and Willow because he’d already informed both of his departure and said his final goodbyes. That left Angel, Jenny, or Joyce.

He opened the door, his eyes narrowing at seeing who stood on the other side.

“Oh, Rupert! Thank god you’re still here.” Jenny threw her arms around Giles’ neck and hugged him. “I’ve been calling. I took a chance and came by…”

Her voice trailed off at feeling him standing rigid against her. She looked up and nearly flinched at the coldness in his eyes.

“Rupert? I— is everything alright?” Her arms slipped from around his neck and she took a step back.

“Hmmm, let’s see,” he informed her coldly. “Buffy’s dead. No, I wouldn’t say that counts as alright.” Giles ticked off a finger. “Kendra, the second slayer in my care was killed as well.” Another finger. “And, I’ve recently come in to some very _interesting_ information. Which makes me wonder how I could have been so bloody stupid.”

His hand reached out and clamped around her upper arm.

“Ow! Rupert. You’re _hurting_ me.” She tried to pry his fingers loose, with little success.

“Oh, I’m going to do more than _that, Janna_ , if you don’t tell me who you are, and just what you were trying to do.” His voice was laced with deadly intent as he drew her back inside his flat and shut the door.

“Janna? I’m… I don’t understand…”

“Spare me your protestations of innocence,” Giles forewarned, shoving Jenny away from him as if the touch of her would somehow contaminate him. “I’d believe my friend here over anything you might have to say.”

Jenny’s gaze darted furtively between the two men.

Giles watched her demeanor change right before his eyes. How the quiet, spunky Computer Science teacher became the vengeful gypsy girl.

“You can’t keep me here.”

She glared at him, eyes spitting daggers that would have quelled a lesser man. Giles wasn’t that man.

“You’d be surprised at just what I’m capable of doing. My flight’s not due to leave until late morning, which gives me plenty of time to get the information I need.” Giles crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“I was just supposed to watch him,” Jenny blurted out abruptly.

“Go on…”

“I was here… to… to make sure he still suffered. That Angelus—”

“So it _was_ your clan that cursed him with a soul?” Giles cut in.

“He killed one of our own!” she cried.

“And countless others. He’s a vampire for chrissakes! What did you expect?” Giles barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the woman’s naivety, delusions, whatever. “You know, it doesn’t matter anymore. Angel’s gone. He’s left Sunnydale. I suggest you do the same. Go back to wherever you came from.”

“I can’t do that. I have to know that the beast suffers. That he’ll continue to suffer. We’ll have our vengeance!”

Giles stalked forward, forcing the woman back against the wall.

“Listen here, _Janna_. You don’t want to piss off the Council. We can make things _very_ difficult for you… and your clan. Besides which, I don’t think my friend here will appreciated your interference. He has… friends in high places. Now, I trust you can let yourself out?”

Thankfully, Jenny didn’t bring up their farce of a relationship. If she had, Giles might not have been able to maintain his composure. She walked quickly to the door and let herself out.

“Pretty magnanimous of you, getting the Council to look out for Angel,” Doyle commented once Jenny had left.

“Well, Angel has proven… _invaluable_ at times. And as you said, he has his own destiny to seek in Los Angeles,” he reasoned.

“Yes. Do you think she’ll listen?”

“I doubt it. But I’ll make a few calls…” His voice trailed off. “We’ve a good rapport with the State Department. I don’t think they’ll take too kindly to hearing about her falsified documents. And with the information coming from one of the Council’s representatives, that should be more than enough to get her shipped back to wherever she came from.”

“If not, I can always let Spike deal with her. He may not realize it just yet, but his sense of family runs deep. That’s the real reason why he didn’t kill Angel when he had the chance. And if nothing else, he’ll appreciate being the one that keeps Angel’s soul in place. Speaking of, once you get to London, gimme a call.” Doyle pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled his home phone number on it. “I’m gonna need your help with something.”

“My help? Can’t you just…” He gestured with his eyes towards the roof.

“Nah. They’d throw a fit if they knew what I wanted to do. I’d have to hear them drone on and on for hours about how I’m not supposed to ‘interfere.’ Right. Like what I’ve been doing for the past week hasn’t been just that.”

“Is it alright to ring you from the office, or should I wait until I’m at home?”

“Home? You’re plan on staying there?”

“Yes. I’m no longer needed here. The new slayer already has a watcher assigned. I expect I’ll be at headquarters, occupying an office. Instructing others with little to no field experience in the way of things. My personal effects I’ve got boxed up and they will be shipped home once the new watcher arrives later in the week.”

“Oh. Well, what about Joyce? You two seemed pretty cozy before.”

“I… it wouldn’t work. She is, _was_ , the Slayer’s mother. A relationship with her would be… _highly_ inappropriate.”

“According to whom?”

Giles didn’t answer, and his fierce scowl told Doyle not to press further. He sighed; he’d done all that he could with this one.

For once, he’d have to leave it to fate to decide.


	2. Chapter 2

Joyce wandered around the house she’d lived in for the past year, her hand running along odds and ends – a picture of her daughter here, a piece of art there. She’d done everything she could to make the place a home for both Buffy and herself, and for the most part, she thought she’d been successful. 

Now her daughter had moved on, gotten married, and was living her own life – no matter that she was only sixteen. Though, she wasn’t really now, was she? What had Buffy said? That she’d lived almost seventy years in the past? 

Her daughter was old enough to be _her_ mother. 

Joyce was truly happy for Buffy, even if it left her alone. Alone in a house much too large for one person. 

It was why she’d talked at length with her assistant at the gallery today. 

She was going to turn over the day-to-day running of her gallery to Stephanie, and was leaving Sunnydale to see the world, shipping pieces of art as she came across it back to the States to be sold. The older woman had been hesitant at first until Joyce had mentioned an increase in pay commensurate with her increased responsibilities. And if Stephanie liked what she was doing, there was an opportunity in the future of the woman buying her out, and Joyce would continue on the payroll, strictly as a purveyor of goods. 

Now all that needed to be done was for Joyce to box up the things she planned to keep, sell off everything else, and put her house on the market. Since the money for the house came as a settlement from her divorce from Hank, whatever offer she finally accepted could be used to finance her trip at first – at least until the pieces she’d acquired began to sell. 

For now she’d use the money in her savings account. The money she’d set aside for Buffy to go to college. Money her daughter no longer needed. 

That her first stop would be England was a given. And not because of Rupert either. She was heeding the advice given her by Angelina, but only to a point. It was the desire to maintain some type of contact with her daughter that spurred her to action, not the man she’d practically clung to as a lifeline the week prior. 

She’d told Angelina that he was a good man, and he truly was. Rupert had proven as much as the reality of her daughter’s calling became too much to bear and she’d needed his strength, his support, to keep it together. There was also no denying his charming manners, that he was probably one of the most handsome men she’d ever encountered even with the stuffy tweed he had a penchant for wearing; his accent was enough to make her weak in the knees. The fact that he viewed Buffy as his own daughter and had treated her as such, something her real father had trouble doing, just made her care for him more. 

But the truth was, she was scared. She’d been burned once, and had been scarred deeply in the process. And while she’d like nothing better than to allow herself to be swept away by the Englishman, she was erring on the side of caution. 

If it was meant to be, it was meant to be. 

No amount of running away by her would prevent it from happening. 

After a final spin about the house, Joyce set about packing away the mementos she would keep. She’d allotted herself a week to get things in order, with the hopes of flying out sometime next weekend. 

She could barely wait… 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Mr. Alric.” 

“Maximilian.” 

“Er… Sorry, sir.” 

Alric quirked his brow at the man’s address, which went unnoticed in the rearview mirror, but Bob sensed it anyway. The vampire hated being addressed as “sir.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Maximilian.” 

“ _Max_ , Bob. Just Max.” 

Alric sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat. He knew he would draw the short straw and be the one selected to infiltrate the demon slave ring, thanks, in part, to his youthful looks. Knew, too, that the demons participating in the trade show would take one look and dismiss him out of hand. 

It was just the thing his sire was counting on. 

The Bentley pulled to a stop in front of the Landmark London. A moment later, his door was opened by Bob, and Alric stepped from the vehicle, his eyes taking in his surroundings with a quick, dismissive glance. He saw a valet rush over and Bob stepped surreptitiously in front of him, as if to shield him against possible attack. Alric rolled his eyes at the human’s useless gesture; sometimes Bob took his duties _too_ seriously. 

If there was a threat to his safety, Alric was more than capable of handling it himself. 

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Landmark London,” the valet beamed. 

“Is there some place I can park?” Bob spoke for his boss. 

The valet regarded the chauffeur. “Certainly. We have valet parking, but you’re more than welcome to park your own vehicle.” 

“Very good.” Bob turned to his employer. “I’ll just park the car, Mr. Maximilian, and bring your bags inside.” 

“Oh! We have a porter to take care of that,” the overly-eager boy volunteered. 

Bob ignored him. 

“I’ll be along directly, sir,” he said again, shutting the door and climbing back into the car. 

“Reception?” Alric asked the hotel employee. 

“Yes, sir. If you’ll follow me.” 

Alric walked beneath the awning towards the hotel’s main entrance. Once inside, he barely paid any attention to the opulent surroundings, heading straight to the check-in counter. The Landmark London was nothing if not efficient, its staff trained to recognize wealth when present – which was why Alric was greeted by the hotel manager before he had a chance to reach the front desk. 

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Landmark London.” 

Alric inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

“I have a reservation. Under Maximilian.” 

“Mr. Maximilian, but of course. We’ve been expecting you. I understand yours is to be an open reservation.” 

“That’s correct. I’ve business to attend to while in London and I’m not sure how long it will take. Will that pose a problem?” 

“No, sir. The Landmark prides itself on being able to accommodate its guests.” The hotel manager stopped in front of the desk, Alric beside him. “Miss Le Feuvre, Mr. Maximilian will be staying in the Marylebone Suite indefinitely.” 

“Yes, Mr. Glen.” 

The hotel manager turned back to Alric. “Miss Le Feuvre will see to your room. Here’s my card. If you need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ring me.” 

Alric took the card, gave the man a brief nod, and turned away – dismissing him out of hand. 

The receptionist went through the motions of getting Alric registered and was just finishing when Bob returned with his bags in hand. At some unseen signal from the woman, a porter appeared at her side and took the key card she held. 

“Jimmy will help you with your bags and see you to your room. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Maximilian.” 

Bob bit back a smile as Alric stepped away from the desk and growled at the porter to show them to his room when the boy made to take the bags away from him. He hurried after the pair when the hotel employee seemed to race down the hallway towards a bank of elevators that led to the upper levels. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob began unpacking as his boss got rid of the porter. He had the laptop out and warming up while Alric shepherded the boy towards the front door. 

“Thank you, sir,” Jimmy gushed, pocketing his tip. 

Alric shut the door in his too-cheerful face. 

He walked back into the main living area, silently taking the device Bob held in his outstretched hand. The clan’s secrecy was to be maintained at all costs; it was one of the reasons they had controlling interests in several competing security companies throughout the world. The scanning device Alric held was so new, it wasn’t even on the market yet. 

Alric made quick work of checking for bugs throughout the suite and was surprised to find the room completely devoid of any surveillance equipment. Past experience had shown him that most of the top-of-the-line hotels throughout the world monitored their higher-end suites. After all, not every billion-dollar business venture meeting occurred in the boardroom. 

“Send my sire an email, informing him of our progress. I’m stepping out for a bite to eat after I change clothes. Then I’m going to make the rounds.” 

“Very good, sir, er, Max. Shall I drive?” 

“No. I’m traveling light. And where I’m going, let’s just say, it’s no place for any human.” 

Bob nodded. He knew better than to argue, no matter how much he might wish to see to his boss’ back. 

~*~*~*~*~

Chinatown was on the other side of London from where he was staying, just past the Soho district. Perfect for Alric, because it allowed him to feed before making his way towards Wong Kei and the hidden entrance to the slave trade show that was due to kick off tonight. 

Dressed all in black, his katana hidden beneath his leather duster, Alric stepped outside the hotel and started down Marylebone Road. He walked a couple of blocks before hailing a cabbie. 

“Soho,” Alric barked out as he climbed into the back seat. He didn’t even flinch when the driver pulled out into traffic before he’d even managed to close the car door, cutting off another vehicle the next lane over to do so. London cabbies had nothing on their New York City counterparts. 

Traffic was heavy and it took them nearly fifteen minutes to reach his destination. 

“You can let me out here,” Alric told the driver as they neared the intersection of Oxford and Berwick, throwing a handful of notes into the front seat once the driver pulled over – ignoring the man’s protestations of being overpaid as he climbed out of the car. He walked off without a backward glance, drawn towards the sights and smells of the seedier side of London. 

It didn’t take Alric long to find someone to eat, afterward dumping the body in one of the skips tucked away on a side street. By the time he’d neared the end of Berwick Street, three more bodies occupied the oversized rubbish containers – and Londoners were just a smidgeon safer than before his victims had met their end. 

As he turned on to Gerrard Street and entered the heart of Chinatown, Alric became even more vigilant in his guard; he sensed human and demon alike walking along the street taking in the Oriental-style nightlife. 

He decided to walk up one side of the street and back down the other to familiarize himself with the area, disguising what he was doing by lingering alongside various street vendors, sometimes buying useless trinkets that he would later dispose of. 

Only when he was confident in his assessment, did Alric make his way towards Wong Kei. 

There was a small line outside the Chinese restaurant, and he thought briefly about shouldering his way to the front. But since he didn’t want to draw undue attention to himself, he stepped to the back of the line and waited with the others. It wasn’t a long wait, perhaps five minutes at most, and Alric forced himself not to growl when a male waiter finally barked out rather rudely “how many?” in a heavily accented voice as he stepped up to the podium. 

“Just myself.” 

“You… upstairs…go…” The man pointed towards the stairs, his eyes already back on the sheet of paper in front of him, not bothering to see if he went that way or not. 

“I’d prefer the basement,” he replied in perfect Chinese, not having moved from his spot. 

The waiter’s head snapped up, his jaw hung open in astonishment. Alric just smiled and waited. Finally, the man seemed to jar himself from his stupor. 

“Yes… yes… you come… this way…” He gestured frantically at Alric, barking out in Chinese for someone to come take his post. 

Alric was led down a flight of stairs, barely paying attention to the running commentary of the waiter – entirely in Chinese – as he half-walked half-ran down the steps. They reached the bottom and Alric’s gaze swept about the room, mentally tagging each of its occupants. Men in business suits mingled with various types of demons, though they were glamoured to appear human. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them, taking the seat indicated by the waiter. 

He ordered without bothering to look at the menu, again in Chinese – though, he kept his voice low so that it didn’t carry. Having fed already, Alric wasn’t particularly hungry, but figured going through the motions of ordering – and eating – dinner would take a while, and would allow him the time he needed to figure out the easiest way to gain access to the trade show. 

“You here for show?” the waiter asked in a hushed whisper as he retrieved the menu sitting on top of the table. 

‘So much for needing a plan.’ 

“Yes.” 

“Good! Good! You eat first… then I take you… yes?” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric steeled himself for what he might see upon stepping through the doors leading to the underground cavern that was home to the First Annual European Demon Trade Show, trademarked, he noticed on the flyer he’d been given. He walked through the double doors, shifting the left side of his duster as he did so, allowing all to see the weapon he carried on his person. 

He’d count himself lucky if his sword didn’t leave its sheath at some point during the night. 

After a brief walk down a wide ramp, the room opened, much like an open pit, easily the size of two football fields set end-to-end. Every demon imaginable milled about, some with their human pets chained at their sides. Others, like him, without. Many species he’d come across at some time in his unlife. Some he’d killed, some he’d not. 

Doing his best to blend in, he ambled down the pre-designated walkway, careful to hide the revulsion he felt at seeing the things he did. True, he had no problem eating humans to survive… but this? 

It was beyond his comprehension. 

Maybe it was because he was from another era. Of a time when he’d walked among humans, and had to practice self-control. If he was a vampire new in the making, he could probably appreciate owning a human for a pet. Or as a slave. Someone to obey his every command, his slightest whim. 

Seeing this three ring circus – which was what the place amounted to – was enough to make him lose the blood, and the Chinese food, he’d recently consumed. 

Halfway around the huge circle, Alric was forced to stop. Something had caused a crowd to form. Bits of jumbled conversation drifted back to him, and the general consensus was that one of the slave traders was displaying his wares, and that many were quite taken with one of the humans, a female. 

Alric mentally shrugged his shoulders and moved off. It wasn’t his place to save these people. He was just there to infiltrate the establishment, find out who ran the thing, and discreetly eliminate him if at all possible. With that thought in mind, Alric pushed his way through the crowds, eager to get this initial contact over with and retreat to his hotel room. 

At least that was the plan… 

Until the crowd parted and he got a look at the female slave displayed to advantage on a block inside the vendor’s stall. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala kept her head lowered submissively while she was led up on the raised platform and one of the chains dangling from the overhead beam was snapped on to her neck collar. Six months ago, she would have fought tooth and nail at the idea of being shackled, let alone owned. But, six months ago, Hakan was still free. Now he’d been captured, and was being used to keep her in line. 

In a few days, she’d be sold off to the highest bidder. Turned into a demon whore. Or _worse_. 

Her mind shut down at the thought, and her already bowed head dipped even lower, causing her long hair to fall forward over her shoulder, partially covering her bare breasts. The dyed white color contrasted sharply with her bronzed skin, a product of her Native American ancestry. 

She didn’t see the demons ogling her, how they stopped in front of Glarshnic’s area and pointed in her direction, but a part of her felt their gaze raking her from head to toe, and she could practically hear the thoughts racing through their heads, the things they’d do to her if theirs was the winning bid. 

None of it showed however. She moved when she was instructed to move by her handler – showing off the merchandise, as it were. 

Just like a good slave obeyed its master. 


	3. Chapter 3

Alric began pushing his way through the crowd of demons, trying to get closer to the girl. Snatches of conversation off to his right made him pause for a moment, and then stop altogether. 

Apparently the female slave was slated for a special auction scheduled later that night, the exclusive event officially kicking off the weekend’s festivities. 

“Gotta have deep pockets to get inside that place,” the first demon commented. “Hear it’s five thou’… just for the _opportunity_ to bid.” 

“Yeah…” The second demon looked crestfallen. 

“And only the choice breeders are given an invitation to display their wares, so you know the stock will be top notch.” 

The pair moved off and Alric followed after them – discreetly, of course – and was able to glean the particulars. He glanced at his watch and frowned. Two hours to waste. 

He may as well continue his surveillance of the place. 

Though with the information he now possessed, Alric figured the real players would be at the auction. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“We should be with him,” Buffy complained. She was curled up against Spike’s side, one leg draped over his. 

They’d received Bob’s encrypted email earlier that both he and Alric were settled in at the Landmark London, and that Alric was going to do a quick look-see about the place. Now they were just waiting for word back on the particulars so they could plan a course of action to diffuse the situation. 

Spike’s fingers stilled on the Slayer’s arm, trying to gauge whether she was serious or just whining, as she was wont to do when relegated to a minor role… or when one of their own was away from the clan. 

“Alric can see to himself, love. And we’ll be there soon. No sense stormin’ the castle before it’s needed. ‘sides, one of us there is bad enough. Two of us would not go unnoticed.” 

“I know…” she pouted. “But we’ve barely gotten back and already we’re split up again.” 

Spike rolled his eyes – she was just whining. 

“What you need is something to take your mind off things.” He pinned the Slayer beneath him and wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” Not that they hadn’t just concluded some mind-numbing activities. 

“Hmmm… I don’t know, pet. Feel up to a game of your infamous ‘hide and seek’?” 

Buffy snorted. Her husband was nothing if not predictable. There was just something about stealthy stalking her that got his demon off. But she wasn’t complaining, far from it. Because the capture always led to other, toe-curling, breathlessly panting things. 

“I guess…” she finally allowed, trying to hide her growing excitement. “But I’m warning you right now. I may hide and get lost. _Really_ lost. This place is a damn mausoleum.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

Buffy grinned and pulled out of Spike’s arms. She snagged her robe off the foot of the bed and shrugged into it, belting it tightly at her waist. 

Seeing that, Spike frowned. 

“Who said anything about gettin’ dressed?” 

“ _I_ did. I’m not about to go streaking about Jocelyn’s home without a stitch of clothing on. Someone might see, you perv.” 

“Well, that’s no fun then,” Spike grumbled, immediately losing interest in the game. “Take that off and come back to bed, I’m sure I can think of something else to provide a distraction. How ‘bout a bit o’ rough and tumble?” 

“Nu uh…” she grinned and backed away towards the door, careful to keep her eyes on him. Although he was lounging easy enough against the pillows, Buffy well knew how quickly he could be upon her. “If you catch me we can spar… or do _other_ things…” 

Then she was out the door and racing down the hallway, her tinkling laughter echoing against the walls as she moved deeper into the mansion. 

Spike grinned at how easily his wife had been sidetracked. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric handed over the five thousand necessary to gain him admittance to the special pre-auction. He walked through the heavy curtain that guarded the entrance, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light of the small room. 

A few others were already inside, each of them looking over the brief program. He didn’t acknowledge any of his competition as he took a seat in a back corner – choosing the spot automatically, the need to protect his back uppermost in his mind. Plus, the lighting did much to shield his features from view. Not that he was trying to hide, but he didn’t want to give anything away as to which slave might interest him. 

Another ten minutes went by before the demon that had been standing outside collecting the entrance fee walked in. The curtain was closed behind him, blocking out the light filtering in from the outside, immediately plunging the tiny room into darkness. A moment later, a spotlight appeared on a small, make-shift stage, and Alric could see a podium being brought out from the back of the room and placed next to it. 

“Good evening, distinguished guests,” a second demon greeted the assembled buyers. “I’d like to personally welcome you to the first gathering of its kind in Europe. You are all here because, to you, money is no object when it comes to your… _amusements_. Let me assure you, tonight’s selection is the crème-de-la-crème of the slaves you’ll see here over the weekend. The breeders putting forth their stock are hand selected by the organizers of the trade show. I trust you all have received a numbered paddle.” The demon looked out over the assembled patrons and noticed a few nods. “Good. Then, rather than ramble on, I’d like to bring out our first item.” 

A tall male was led out by his handler and put through a quick series of commands. The announcer rattled on about the human’s breeding and training. Alric barely paid the slave any attention, but noticed that a few of the other buyers – both male and female – eyed him intently. The bidding started, and he watched as paddles flew in the air as each sought to be the winning bid. 

“Sold! For eighteen thousand pounds.” 

The male was led away and a second human was brought out, the process starting all over again. 

“We’re nearly half-way through now,” the demon announced. “Our next item is from Glarshnic’s breeding farm.” 

Alric didn’t hear much else of what the announcer said as the girl he’d noticed earlier was led out from behind the curtain. Having already decided that she would be his, he took umbrage at the fact of the demon’s hands upon her nearly nude body. He noticed a few others sit up in their seats and eye the girl with sudden interest. 

“What do I hear for this lovely specimen? Five thousand?” 

A paddle went up in the first row. 

“Five thousand to the gentleman in the front row. Do I hear six?” 

When the bid got to twenty thousand and was down to two demons, Alric joined in. 

“Twenty-five.” His voice was low, but he knew the auctioneer could hear him. 

“I have twenty-five from the gentleman in the back. Do I hear twenty-six?” 

Someone answered his call. 

“Thirty.” Again his voice was low. 

“I… I have thirty thousand from the gentleman in the back. Do I hear thirty-one?” The demon glanced about the room. No paddles were raised. “I have thirty,” he called out again. “Going once… going twice… Sold! For thirty-thousand pounds.” 

Alric stood up as the girl was led away. He’d gotten what he came for; there was no sense in him hanging around for the rest of the show. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala was led off the stage and it took everything she had not to have her legs give out on her. She’d just been sold – for thirty thousand pounds. It was more money than she would have made in a year, perhaps two, if she figured in the exchange rate to US dollars. 

He’d only said two words, numbers really. But it was enough to send chills down her spine. More than Glarshnic ever could with all of his beatings. 

Not for the first time Tala wondered how her life had gotten to this point. 

_‘Shut it out,’_ she silently commanded herself. _‘Remember your training. Please your new master. It’s the only way…’_

She followed meekly as Glarshnic led her down a hallway. He stopped at a counter, and she sank to her knees and waited. She felt a hand run along her hair, and she forced herself not to cringe. 

“Good girl. You remember…” 

It was a warning, plain and simple. One she couldn’t disobey. 

“Someone has paid a lot of money for you, and I don’t want it getting back to me that he was displeased. Do you understand?” 

Her hair was gripped and her head yanked back, and Tala found herself staring into eyes black as pitch. 

“Would you be so kind as to unhand my newest pet?” 

The words were spoken calmly enough, but there was enough underlying menace that even Glarshnic sensed it. His grip on her hair loosened almost instantly, then fell away, and Tala found herself once more staring at the ground in front of her, her hands clasped lightly behind her back. 

“Thank you.” 

Glarshnic grunted and turned to the man next to him and sniffed. Vampire. Old. 

“Here’s the receipt of purchase. I believe you’ve only to see the cashier.” 

Alric held out the piece of paper to the breeder. 

Glarshnic nodded, not bothering to take it. Instead, he held out the leash. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Alric replied as he tugged on the leash, suppressing a frown as the girl unfolded herself from the floor and resettled herself by his side; instead his lips curved into a faint smile appearing pleased with how well she’d been trained. He wondered, yet again, what had possessed him to buy the creature; she was going to do nothing but complicate his life. 

_‘Part of the cover,’_ he reminded himself. 

“Tell me, Glarshnic, is this girl here the exception, or the norm? I may eventually want to purchase a stud.” 

“I put out only the best, Mr…?” 

“Maximilian.” 

“Mr. Maximilian, my slaves are the most well-trained in all of Europe. Just ask around. I’ve never had one yet to turn on its master.” 

“That’s good to hear.” Alric inclined his head and moved off, his new pet in tow. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” Buffy asked Joseph as she walked into the dining room and saw the vampire sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. 

“Haven’t gone yet.” 

“Oh?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t say anything,” she told him. 

“You didn’t have to. I know that look,” he replied, then went back to reading his paper. 

“ _What_ look? I don’t have a _‘look.’_ ” Buffy huffed. 

“Yes, you do.” Joseph smirked. It was such fun baiting the Slayer; he’d forgotten how much. 

“So, how are things going with you and Jocelyn?” 

The vamp groaned, as the reason for his sleeplessness – a topic he’d thought he’d managed to squelch – was brought back into the forefront. 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“Buffy…” 

“What? I’m just striking up a conversation here. It’s the first chance we’ve really had to talk since I’ve been back.” 

“More like the first chance you’ve had to nag me,” Joseph muttered under his breath. 

“I heard that.” 

“Well, it’s true. Next you’ll be harpin’ on me about this ‘mate’ stuff.” He lowered his paper and glared at her. 

“Well…” 

“Here we go. Where’s my sire when I need him?” 

“In bed… sleeping.” Buffy grinned. “I wore him out.” 

“Isn’t _he_ the lucky one…?” Joseph grumbled. 

“Uh huh.” Her smile grew wider. 

“Feel up to a little one-on-one?” Joseph asked abruptly, in the desperate hope of steering the conversation away from his love-life, or sudden lack thereof. 

“Sure! What did you have in mind?” 

~*~*~*~*~

“Fencing is a ‘zero talking’ sport, Buffy,” Joseph complained. “It’s why I chose it.” 

Buffy grinned beneath her mask, not that he could see. 

“I know, but since when do I follow the rules?” 

“Brat.” 

He attacked with a series of lunges that had Buffy on the defensive and scrambling to parry. Her last one fell short and the tip of his blade delved into the protective barrier on her chest. She ceded defeat, and Joseph backed away to return to the en-garde position. 

The two fenced for well over an hour, and even though, by rights, Joseph should have been exhausted and sleeping along with the rest of her clan, he still managed to defeat the Slayer. Barely. 

“Someone’s out of shape,” he teased as he pulled off his helmet. 

“Yeah, well, someone’s had a few extra years to practice. Almost a hundred and fifty of them. Give me a week and I’ll have your butt on the mat.” 

Joseph snorted. 

Buffy walked over to the wall and replaced her rapier, sliding her helmet onto one of the shelves. She was almost to the door when she stopped and glanced back at the vampire. 

“You know… if you had a _mate_ , you wouldn’t have to take your frustrations out on me,” she teased. It was her mission in life to get all her boys paired up with someone. Joseph just happened to be the first one she’d come across. 

“Go!” he laughed, pointing towards the exit. 

“I’m just saying…”

With a wave she was gone, and Joseph was stuck with the thought that the Slayer was too canny by half. Still, it wasn’t too much of a hardship escorting Renee’s childe about. At least he was able to get out of the mansion and mingle for a while, even if he had to maintain his cover as her doting boyfriend – which meant no sneaking off to see to his baser needs. Wouldn’t do to have his picture posted in the rags that he was two-timing the heiress. He’d never be able to eat all the paparazzi that were lurking about in order to stifle the story, as much as he might want to. 

That thought brought a smile to his face and he replaced his helmet and left the room. 

He really _should_ be sleeping. After the hour-long joust-fest with the Slayer, he was dog-tired. But his brain refused to shut down. Maybe it was all the mindless activity they were indulging in while waiting for Alric’s signal, especially after they’d spent the last year or so preparing for his sire’s return. 

Joseph stepped from the room, intending to seek his bed and force himself to sleep. 

“You should be sleeping, childe.” 

“Sire!” 

Joseph whirled around to see Spike leaning against the wall, clad in only a pair of jeans. 

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked. 

“Nothing… I…” his voice trailed off. He was hard put to actually voice his troubles, if he could call them that. It wasn’t like they were anything concrete. 

“I was about to go through some of the books Jocelyn brought back with her. Join me in the study?” 

“Of course…” 

Maybe some mindless reading would be enough to finally lull him to sleep, and he was never one to turn down his sire’s company. 


	4. Chapter 4

Giles wandered aimlessly around his flat. He’d been back in London for the better part of a week, had been working at the Council Headquarters for the last four days – Travers was a bloody taskmaster and hadn’t allowed him much time to recover from his jetlag. 

When he’d arrived late Monday evening, a car had been waiting, and rather than take him home to get some much-needed sleep, Giles had been driven to headquarters straightaway. Like his report on the two slayers’ demise couldn’t wait until a more decent hour. His exhaustion had leaked over onto his retelling; he’d been abrupt… and brief. Until finally, he’d stormed out of Travers’ office with his parting shot something akin to a curt “sod off.” Though good breeding had prevented him from actually voicing the words aloud. 

But it had been there, in every stiff line of his body as he’d stridden purposefully from the man’s office. There was just something about Travers that rubbed him the wrong way and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Maybe it was Travers’ apparent dislike of his slayer. Or the way he seemed to lord over his position as Head Councilman like he was some type of god and everyone working for the council his faithful followers. 

He’d returned the next morning, apologizing to Travers for his abruptness of the night before – blaming his unseemly behavior on the numerous time changes he’d suffered through and the lack of sleep prior to his leaving Sunnydale. 

The man had waved it aside and immediately launched into what Giles’ new duties would be. 

Stuck in a room with a bunch of pimply-faced youths fresh out of university, was just what he’d been expecting. They’d be gaining first-hand experience from someone recently returned from the field, Travers had announced. Giles had bitten his tongue and refrained from commenting, instead silently nodding his compliance. 

He’d spent the last few days instructing the wet-behind-the-ears inductees about the basic duties that would be expected of them – _if_ they were fortunate enough to be given the honor of becoming a watcher for the Chosen One. While at the same time, interspersing his teachings with examples of his own behavior, the things he’d done to assist his slayer with her calling. 

At one point, Giles had looked out over the small group of young men and women and shaken his head, wondering if he’d ever looked as they did. Young and idealistic with a strong sense of what was right and wrong, that there were clear-cut lines between good or evil. Even the way they were being taught to instruct slayers in their training was so regimented as to be easily identified by her opponent. It was enough to make him grateful for the girl he’d been called upon to “watch.” The one that had him throwing out the handbook within moments of meeting her. 

And he knew Buffy was alive today because of it. 

Fighting, and all the things that went into being a warrior for good, couldn’t be taught from a manual. True, the Slayer was possessed of raw talent, but she also had to be able think on her feet, improvise, play dirty as the need arose. Something the Council didn’t teach its watchers, and in turn, the girls that came into the role. 

That was going to change though. Which was why, instead of submitting his formal letter of resignation, he’d surprised Travers by agreeing to take his new assignment. It was definitely past time for a new way of thinking at the Council, and by training the young ones, before they’d been completely brainwashed, Giles hoped to spark that change. 

Sipping his tea, Giles smirked in remembrance of the man’s astonishment. Clearly, he’d not been expected to stay. But it wasn’t like Travers could just kick him out; he had too much clout with the other members of the board. Not to mention the fact that he came from a long line of distinguished, well-respected watchers. 

Giles finished his tea and placed the cup in the sink. It was Saturday, so he was off for the next two days and planned on spending them airing out his flat and making it livable once again. At some point, he’d stop by the local bookstore and pick up a few things. Plus there were the necessary groceries to replenish; he’d grabbed something for dinner on the way home the last few days, but couldn’t expect to do that indefinitely. Maybe while he was out, he’d have lunch at one of the local cafes. 

If he buried himself in enough mindless drivel, then there’d be no time to think about Joyce, and all those “what ifs”. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric knew right away that the girl was awake and was eyeing him intently. His behavior probably hadn’t been what she’d been led to expect from her new owner – though he doubted she’d ever give voice to her confusion. Just like he knew the second he opened his eyes and looked at her, her gaze would fall away to stare at her hands, or her feet. Anywhere but his face. 

So he lay there, unmoving, allowing her to look her fill, while his mind replayed the events of last night. As expected, he’d not gone the entire night without drawing his katana. 

Immediately after the auction, Alric had led his new plaything back toward the main area. He had no idea the protocol involved with owning a slave, but those he’d seen had, for one thing, been naked or nearly so, much like his was. They were also garbed in various jewels and trinkets, oftentimes draped more lavishly than their owners. 

The girl had followed easily enough, falling into step behind him. He’d not gone far when he felt the lead in his hand go taut. He glanced over his shoulder and growled at seeing a Fengra l’tosh demon with his hand on the girl’s arm. 

His reaction had been instantaneous. 

He’d dropped the lead and had his sword out, the blade digging slightly into the demon’s neck before it knew what had happened. The walkway had cleared as demons backed away to give them room; money changed hands, shouts of “fight” and “kill him” rang out, interspaced with some of the demons betting on who would be the winner of the first – of what was sure to be many – altercation of the event. 

The Fengra l’tosh had abruptly let go of the slave girl and began apologizing – at least Alric assumed he was given his cowering – in his native tongue. He hadn’t recognized the language. 

He’d leaned in, causing the blade to slide along the demon’s neck and dig deeper into the skin. 

“Mine,” he’d growled when they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Hands off.” 

Alric hadn’t been sure whether the thing understood him or not, but if nothing else the demon had recognized his deadly intent. How he’d had no qualms separating his head from his neck. 

He’d not had a chance to make good his threat, however. The Chinese had arrived. The small group of humans had pushed their way through the crowd of demons, the lead male shouting his name – which was surprising given that he’d only told it to one demon. 

“Mr. Maximilian, please… the Fengra… he meant no disrespect…” The man had spoken in his native tongue, probably forgetting in his haste to diffuse the situation that Alric might not be able to understand him – either that, or the waiter had talked. But he’d switched to English when he added, “They’re… inquisitive… harmless, really… not worthy of your blade. _Please_ , Mr. Maximilian.” 

Alric had given the human a cursory glance, noting how his gaze kept darting from him to some place in the distance, worry – and a small amount of fear – evident in his gaze. Apparently, there was to be no bloodshed at the event, and the man’s fate seemed to rest on him being able to get Alric to desist. 

He’d relented, barely. It was ingrained to defend what was his, to exact payment for any slight done to him. He’d eased up on his sword, noting with satisfaction the demon’s heavy swallow. In the blink of an eye, he had the blade cleaned off using the Fengra l’tosh’s shirt and resheathed. 

Then he’d turned to the human and barked out in rapid-fire Chinese, “Anything that is mine is worthy of my blade, make no mistake.” His voice had lowered so only the peacekeeper could hear. “Since I’ve spared his life, I’ve saved your own. I _will_ collect.” 

He’d walked off, having retrieved his slave – noting with some satisfaction that she’d not been touched, that there was, in fact, several feet between the girl and the nearest demon. The crowd that had formed had broken up, the incident soon forgotten. Without bloodshed to hold sway, their attention was quickly diverted back to the goods to be had. 

Alric had spent the next few hours making arrangements to have the girl draped head-to-toe in the finest jewelry. When he’d sensed dawn a few hours off, he made one last purchase – a woolen cloak. It wasn’t like he could have the girl paraded around in the altogether in London proper. 

Figuring he’d done enough reconnaissance for one night, Alric had placed a call to Bob to meet him in Chinatown, outside the Wong Kei restaurant. As he’d departed the trade show, he could feel that others were watching him leave and he hoped he’d made enough of an impression to meet a few of the higher ups upon his return. 

Hearing Bob rummaging about in the outer room, Alric knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. His eyes opened, and he stared at the girl staring at him. She seemed to remember her place, because her head immediately dipped. Sighing, Alric rolled out of bed. 

“Come on. I’m sure you’d like to make use of the bathroom.” 

He didn’t bother to look at her as he slipped into his pants and walked off. She’d been trained well, his slave. 

“Can you handle this by yourself?” he asked, indicating the shower, “or do you need me to help you?” Alric prayed for the former, even if he secretly wished for the later. She was his to do with what he will, had been trained to please him in all things. Yet, there was something about her complete subservience that stayed his hand – if not his traitorous dick. He’d have to see about getting the girl some clothes, at least when they were alone together, or he would take her to bed, and damn his conscience, or what passed for his conscience. 

When she didn’t answer, he turned around. She was doing her best to keep the shock off her face. 

“Well, speak up,” he demanded. 

“I… yes… I can… do this by myself…” she whispered, hardly daring to hope that he’d leave her to it. Alone. “Master…” she hastened to add. 

“Well, be quick about it. Bob’ll have something for you to eat when you finish.” 

Alric walked out of the bathroom, fighting back the frown that threatened at the title she’d spoken. 

“Leave the door open,” he commanded. 

Tala nodded, then stopped when she realized that he wouldn’t see her unspoken assent. She stood there for a minute, staring after her new master’s retreating back. The bulge in his pants had been unmistakable. That he’d not acted on his obvious need confused her. 

She’d fully expected him to take her there in the shower, or to at least join her. Especially since he’d not availed himself of her body when they’d returned back to his room in the wee hours of the morning. 

And that was another thing… 

The name of the hotel didn’t ring any bells with her, but she knew money when she saw it. And the Landmark London reeked of it. What was even more confusing was that he was staying there in the first place. He was a demon, after all, since he’d been at the exclusive demon trade show – she’d yet to determine what breed, however. Her training had included her being made aware of some of the more prevalent demons and she knew that there were several that appeared human. 

The more she stood there and thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. It was how she’d been captured after all. She’d been completely oblivious to the things that went bump in the night – other than the human variety. One minute she’d been about to step on the train to head home, degree in hand, the next she’d been abducted, no one the wiser. Her muffled scream had been met with a needle stick to her neck. 

When she’d come to, she’d been stripped bare and locked inside a cage, along with about a dozen others, both male and female. 

Then her abductor had come in and the image of his distorted features had been seared into her mind, often plaguing her dreams in the months that followed. Even now, just the thought of him was enough to galvanize her to action. 

Her new master had said to hurry, and she’d been standing there wasting time, lost in thought. She made quick use of the toilet, silently thankful for that bit of privacy, and the fact that she wasn’t squatting in some corner like an animal as she’d had to do in the past. 

Tala hurried through her shower; she wanted to linger, luxuriating in the hot spray as it washed over her body, but didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with her master. Sighing, she reluctantly turned off the water and climbed out, wrapping one of the plush towels that hung on the ornate rack around her body. She eyed the single item of clothing she owned – a tiny scrap of leather that barely covered her mound – wondering if she should put it back on. 

Her nose crinkled in distaste at the idea. 

The elaborate set of jewelry he’d bought for her had been discarded on the night table. Even if she wanted to put it on, she couldn’t, because she’d not paid much attention as it had been draped on her body. 

She nibbled on her bottom lip in indecision for a minute. 

Finally, when she felt she could dawdle no longer, Tala toweled off her hair as best she could then set the towel back on the rack. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and noticing the bird’s nest that was her hair, attempted to run her fingers through it to bring some semblance of order to the long strands, vaguely wondering if her master would continue to dye it white, or if he’d let it revert to its natural black color. 

That done, she steeled herself and walked naked out into the front room. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the vision walking toward him. Head erect, shoulders back, she looked anything but cowed, though she was completely divested of clothing – if one weren’t to look too close and see the misery in her eyes. 

The chauffeur quickly averted his gaze and cleared his throat. 

“Uh… Max?” 

Alric had his face buried in the morning paper while he sipped idly at his second mug of blood. 

“What is it, Bob?” the vamp asked, not bothering to look up. 

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed. “Your… uh… that is…” Bob had witnessed a lot in his time spent with the vampires, but never before had one taken a human slave, or a pet, or whatever demons called them. He was saved from answering when the girl walked over and calmly knelt at Alric’s feet. Better to let him discover on his own the state of her undress. 

Alric was at a loss. He wanted to bark out for the girl to get off her knees and take a seat at the table, but he knew she wouldn’t, no matter that it was a command. A slave’s place _was_ at their master’s feet. He sighed heavily, already regretting having purchased the girl. But he couldn’t let her go just yet; he needed her for the illusion he was trying to maintain. 

Bob returned with a plate of food – fruits, cheeses, slices of meat. Alric popped a piece of cheese in his mouth and grabbed another and offered it to her. She took it easily enough, her warm mouth wrapping around the bit of food, as well as the tips of his fingers. His waning erection returned with a vengeance and he hissed out a breath as her tongue continued to lap at his fingers long after the piece of cheese had been consumed. 

“Another?” Alric choked out and felt her nod. He pulled his hand away and grabbed blindly at the tray, his hand closing over a piece of fruit. Again she took it from his hand, and again she licked at his fingers until he reluctantly pulled them back. 

The process continued until she silently shook her head in answer to his question of more. 

“Something to drink?” 

Tala nodded, or at least she thought she did; her body was too sated from the delicious meal. She’d had nothing but bread and water – sometimes a little bland meat – for so long, she’d forgotten how good food, _real_ food, tasted. 

She felt him hesitate beside her and could have kicked herself for zoning off. He’d apparently asked her a question and was waiting for an answer. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with things he might have asked, but drew a blank. There was no help for it; she was going to have to confess she’d not heard him. 

A bowl of water appeared at her knees and Tala looked at it for a minute, before lowering her head and drinking her fill. 

“More,” he asked once she’d sat back and saw that it was empty. 

Tala shook her head again, indicating that she’d had enough, and she surprised herself by leaning in to her master’s leg and resting her cheek against his thigh. Almost immediately, his fingers were in her hair, damp though it was, and running through it, pulling a reluctant moan of pleasure out of her at his touch. 

It mattered not that she was naked and kneeling at his feet. Nothing did, but the feel of his hands in her hair. And she shifted closer, hoping to feel his touch spread to other parts of her body. 

“Up,” he whispered, and like one possessed, she easily climbed into his lap. His hands began exploring every inch of her body, and her eyes fluttered closed, quickly falling victim to the pleasure he was creating. 


	5. Chapter 5

Alric had to mark her. It was expected. 

Especially since he’d have to take her back tonight with him when he returned to the Wong Kei restaurant. He had a Chinaman to find and a possible introduction to the person or persons who’d managed to successfully consolidate the smattering of European-based demons dealing in human slaves, creating one big show, one that hoped to be continued each year. 

They’d been aware of the few demon species that had a penchant for human slaves – his own included. Before now, Spike had let it be. They couldn’t save everyone. 

But this, this annual thing the Chinese were attempting… 

It upset the balance. Thus necessitating their interference. 

The idea had been too well received by the demon community, if the large crowd yesterday had been anything to go by. If it were allowed to continue, demand would grow, necessitating more slave breeders, and more humans being captured and turned into slaves. 

They needed to prevent that from happening, and decimate the organizers. 

A lesson to all that might attempt to follow in their footsteps. 

His mind back on his task, Alric bent his head, and before he could question his actions, sank his fangs into the girl’s neck. He tried to make his bite as painless as possible, have it over and done with before he’d barely begun. Not much was needed to brand the girl as his, after all. She wasn’t like Buffy; the Slayer’s wounds practically healed overnight. The marks he gave her would stay on the girl’s neck for several days, if not weeks. 

He wasn’t trying to claim her either, at least not in a true sense. Only provide a little window dressing, of sorts, as he mingled among the other demons at the trade show. 

She stiffened in his arms as soon as he struck, and although she didn’t cry out, he clearly heard her indrawn breath of pain. He was all set to release her, but then her body relaxed into his, and she actually pushed her body closer, driving his fangs deeper into her throat. 

Her blood spilled out onto his tongue and he couldn’t resist taking a hard pull of the life-giving sustenance. His eyes rolled up into his head at the taste of her – innocence and a strong warrior spirit hit him with equal force. Alric drew her closer, crushing her bare breasts against his chest that was equally devoid of clothing; a growl erupted somewhere deep in his throat and he bit deeper, drinking down another mouthful of the sweet nectar. 

The kitten-like mewl she made jarred him out of the pleasure-induced haze her blood had caused and he visibly shook off his demon and began laving at the wound he’d left. 

“I’m sorry,” he couldn’t help but apologize, his voice barely above a whisper against her neck, realizing he’d gone a bit overboard. He continued to tease the flesh around where he’d bitten with his lips and tongue, knowing that the pleasure derived from the action would soon eclipse the pain he’d caused her. 

The girl had just begun to whimper in his arms, eagerly responding to his slight seduction, when his cell phone rang. He growled at the interruption and pulled back to dig around in his jeans pocket. His hand closed over it, but with the girl draped over his lap like she was, it took a bit of maneuvering before he managed to pull it free. 

“You’re late,” the voice spoke into his ear before he could snap out a terse greeting. 

“I was in the middle of something, Adam,” Alric ground out, the exasperation in his tone a good indicator of what, exactly, he’d been in the middle of. Adam’s chuckling at his expense didn’t help matters. “I was getting ready to call you.” 

“I’d say I’d call back in five, but our sire wants an update on the situation at the trade show. Actually, it was Buffy that was pushing for me to call, though hearing that I’ve interrupted something—” 

“Watch it, Adam,” he all but growled into the phone, surprising both himself and probably Adam as well with his vehement protest to the direction of the other vamp’s thoughts were taking. Realizing how he might have sounded – possessive and protective at the same time – Alric tried to distract Adam by complaining about the Slayer’s renewed attempts at matchmaking. “So… Buffy’s at it again, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Adam complained. “And apparently she’s not wasting any time either. Joseph’s informed me she’s already started on him with her ‘you need a mate’ crap again.” 

“Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh is right. You’re just lucky you’re in London and can escape her for now. Although, I _could_ put her on the phone. Only right you get your fair share of ribbing from the girl.” 

“Don’t you _dare_! Why isn’t our sire keeping the chit busy?” 

“You know Spike. I swear he’s a sadistic bastard. Bet he does it on purpose just to see us squirm,” Adam complained. “Hell, even having Renee’s childe around isn’t enough to keep the Slayer off our backs. If anything, seeing Jocelyn only makes it worse. I tell ya, I’ve taken to hiding, Alric. Hiding! Thankfully the Countess’ estate is rather large and I’ve been able to avoid her thus far.” 

Alric bit his lip to keep from laughing outright at Adam’s obvious pain. And he thought _he_ had problems. 

The two lapsed into silence for a minute. Not for anything would either one give up what they had – not even the Slayer’s machinations. As much as the males in the clan liked to joke about it, they were all secretly touched that Buffy wanted them to be as happy as she was. 

Finally getting back to the matter at hand, Alric launched into the particulars of the previous night, explaining the ins and outs of the show – the size of the operation, the demon species he recognized, layout and security, and anything else he could think of that might prove useful. He deliberately left off that he’d acquired one of the human slaves for himself, even if he told himself the reason he’d done it was to save her; there was no way he wouldn’t catch hell from the Slayer if she were to find out. He also mentioned that he had a debt to collect from one of the humans and was hoping to use that for an introduction to one of the higher ups within the organization. 

There was a knock at the door to his suite, and Alric heard Bob leave the kitchen where he’d been puttering around to give the vampire some privacy, in order to answer it. The man returned a moment later with an envelope held in his outstretched hand. 

“Hang on. Bob’s brought me something.” 

Alric mumbled his thanks to his employee, taking the envelope that had his name written elaborately across the front. He shifted the girl on his lap so he could have use of both his hands to open it and his eyes widened slightly upon seeing the engraved invitation. No expense had been spared creating the invite, and Alric quickly scanned the elaborate text of paper he held, noting the date, place, and time of the event. 

“Looks like I’m invited to a party tonight,” Alric told Adam, using his shoulder to prop his cell phone against his ear as he spoke into the phone. “And it appears someone’s done some checking up on me if they were able to find me here at the hotel.” 

He dropped the invite on the dining room table and gripped the phone with one hand; the other found its way to the girl’s hair, unconsciously running his fingers through it as she lay with her head against his chest. 

“Guard your back, Alric. I know we set you up there specifically to be found, but I don’t like how quickly it was accomplished.” 

Alric snorted. His entrance into the Landmark London had practically _screamed_ “notice me.” And if whoever was behind the trade show had any smarts, they would have had spies in each of London’s more prominent hotels. At least, that’s what he would have done. 

“Where’s the party?” Adam asked. 

“Place called the Golden Phoenix. Exclusive nightclub not far from Wong Kei’s.” 

“Alright. I’ll update our sire with what you’ve told me. Don’t be surprised if you have houseguests when you get back from your little ‘do.’” 

Alric sincerely hoped not; explaining the girl’s presence wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do right now. He rang off with his promise to call the same time tomorrow if not and dropped his phone onto the table, once more returning his attention to the girl curled on his lap. His gaze locked on the marks he’d left upon her neck as he brushed her hair away from her face. 

~*~*~*~*~

While her master talked on the telephone, Tala allowed her mind to wander. His voice was oddly soothing though she didn’t recognize anything he said, and she quickly tuned out the words if not the cadence. 

In college, she’d been forced to take a foreign language to complete her major, and for a brief moment had thought he’d been speaking French. She changed her mind soon after, because the words rolling off his tongue with such ease appeared to switch from French, to what sounded like German, and even Russian – not that she considered herself a language expert. 

Although she clearly understood the name Adam when it was spoken with irritation towards the caller. 

That’s when she’d given up. There was no way she was going to be able to understand any of what he was saying. 

So she settled in to wait, staring fixatedly at a point across the room. Anywhere but at herself, and the vampire whose lap she was sitting on. Trying to ignore the soothing fingers gliding up and down her bare arm. 

_“Tala…I wanna ride. Take me riding.”_

_The plaintive voice drew Tala from her studies, and she looked up to see Hakan lurking in her bedroom doorway._

_“Can’t, sweetheart. I have a test tomorrow. I’ve got to study.”_

_“You’re always studying,” the boy complained, bottom lip jutting out in a pout._

_“That’s so I can do well in school.”_

_She didn’t explain her scholarship money was contingent on her being near the top of her class. Her four-year-old brother wouldn’t understand. She sighed, glanced over at him, and saw his hopeful expression._

_And promptly caved._

_He was all that was left of her family. And since their parents’ sudden death two months prior, he’d become increasingly clingy – which had caused her grades to slip a bit because her brother couldn’t bear for her to leave him to go to school. Thankfully her teachers had been accommodating, allowing her to study from home for the first few weeks in the wake of her parents’ funeral._

_The only time he behaved like the four-year-old boy he should be was when she took him riding._

_“Thirty minutes… no more,” she told him, arms crossed over her chest as she mock-frowned in his direction. Not that he noticed. The Indian whoop he gave as he raced down the hallway to the kitchen could have been heard down the street. “Go let Nana know, and meet me in the paddock,” she called after him, raising her voice loud enough to be heard over his exuberant cry._

Tala sighed wistfully at the memory. But it was those that kept her going. Kept her in line. The alternative was to allow Hakan’s tear-streaked and dirt-smudged face, his horror at the beasts that held him captive, to occupy her mind. How he’d kicked and screamed and called out her name repeatedly for her to save him as he was led from the slave chamber that had been her home for several months before he’d arrived. 

She could only pray that Glarshnic kept his word. That as long as she was the dutiful slave and pet, her brother wouldn’t be harmed. 

If not, there was no place on Earth that the demon could hide to escape her wrath. And she’d gladly die exacting her revenge – she had the blood of generations of warriors filling her veins as proof to that. 

It helped that her new master was not unpleasing to the eyes, and for some strange reason his touch didn’t make her skin crawl, unlike Glarshnic’s hand had. Then again, the vampire had yet to beat her, or touch her really, until recently. 

He’d bitten her. 

Tala didn’t know what shocked her more – suddenly finding out he was a vampire, or his whispered apology. She fingered the marks on her neck and unconsciously twitched on her master’s lap at how sensitive they were; her eyes widened at the pleasurable rush that coursed through her body at the slight contact. 

And she quickly pulled her hand away as if scorched. 

_‘What has he done to me?’_

Then his fingers were in her hair, and she didn’t care what he’d done. 

Not as long as he kept on running his hands along the long strands, petting her like one would a cat. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Up you go, pet,” Alric told her, dragging her back to the here and now as he helped her to her feet. “Looks like we’ve a party to get ready for.” 

Her eyes widened. 

_A party? She was going to a party?_

“Bob!” she heard her master call out, and a moment later, the man from earlier appeared in the room. 

“Yes, Max?” 

“I need a hairstylist and manicurist. Oh, and someone to do the girl’s makeup. See to it, will you? Have them come here. And find me a damn robe while you’re at it,” he grumbled as an afterthought. He started towards the bedroom, not surprised when the girl fell silently into step behind him. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Bob placed a call to the front desk and was immediately connected with the in-house spa whose receptionist assured him that someone would be up posthaste to see to his requests. 

The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed when he entered the master suite, and Bob was careful to keep his eyes averted as he walked over to the wardrobe to retrieve one of the hotel robes. The water was running in the bathroom and Alric was nowhere to be seen, so he figured Alric was taking a shower. 

“Uh… for you…” he told the girl as he laid the robe on the bed. “Someone will be up shortly.” 

When the girl just sat there, making no move to take the robe and put it on, Bob frowned. 

“It’s okay… you can wear it. Max… he… uh...” his voice trailed off, seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere with the girl. Like he wasn’t even in the room. 

Bob marched over to the bathroom and shouted, “She won’t put on the damn robe, Max.” 

“What?” 

“I said—” 

“I heard what you said. Dammit!” 

Alric silently counted to ten. It was his fault; he hadn’t actually told the girl the robe was for her. But the implication had been there to anyone smart enough to deduce. Only, she was a slave and slaves followed orders not assumptions, he hastened to remind himself – all the while kicking himself in the ass. 

“Tell her I said to put the robe on.” 

“Don’t think that’s gonna work, sir.” 

“Oh for the love of…” Alric stomped out of the shower, oblivious to his nudity, and stalked to the door. 

“Put the damn robe on!” 

He turned on his heel and got back into the shower, not bothering to see if the girl complied with his order or not. Anger at himself and on the girl’s behalf caused him to be a bit harsh with his scrubbing and his skin bore a few red spots from where he’d rubbed a bit vigorously. 

Alric stayed in the shower, long after the hot water had run out – not that he particularly noticed. He just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t take his bad mood out on the girl; it wasn’t her fault she acted the way she did. 

It was his own distaste at owning a slave that had him in a funk. 

With a towel slung low on his hips and another being used to wipe at his wet hair, Alric walked out into the bedroom. The girl was sitting in one of the plush chairs near the vanity, her feet soaking in a small tub of sudsy water while her fingernails were being seen to. She sat still as a statue, something akin to shock on her face as she stared at the hotel employee working on her hands. Though once she spied him, her features evened out until all trace of emotion disappeared and her head lowered submissively. 

And just like that, his temper was back in full force. 

At least she was wearing the robe. 

_‘Of course she is, you git, you ordered her to.’_

He dressed quickly, figuring he could get in a quick meal before the girl was finished being primped. Maybe some fresh blood would go a long way towards appeasing his ire. 

“I’m going to step out while you get finished up here,” he told the girl. “I’ll be back shortly. Oh, leave your hair down for me?” He made it sound like a request for the benefit of the beautician. 

Seeing her deferential nod, Alric smiled. 

“Bob’s in the other room if you need anything,” he called out over his shoulder, so missed the slightly anxious look that suddenly appeared on the girl’s face. 


	6. Chapter 6

The Bentley pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the Golden Phoenix and Alric stared out the window at the exclusive Chinese nightclub, noting the crowd that had already started to form near the roped off entrance. He barely spared a glance for the group of young twenty-somethings whispering amongst themselves – a few of them pointing in his direction – as his door was opened with an exaggerated flourish by Bob and he climbed out of the car. Their excitement hit him at once – their erratic heartbeats, the faint trace of arousal. He controlled his demon easily enough, his mind already on the performance he was about to give. 

His eyes passed over the scantily-clad females and well-dressed males, all waiting eagerly in the hopes of being let inside. He didn’t have to worry about such trivialities. The invitation tucked into the inside pocket of his knee-length leather coat guaranteed his entrance into the club. 

Alric reached down and extended his hand to his slave and helped her from the car. Her jewelry gave a muffled clink beneath the protective wrap that covered her from neck to ankles, and his eyes filled with images of what she looked like beneath the cloak… how she’d relaxed beneath his touch as each item of jewelry was draped over her body and the clasp secured. How, when he was finished, she’d lifted her head, their gazes locking for the space of a few brief minutes – need prevalent on both of their faces. And how the moment had been broken when Bob walked in through the open bedroom door and announced that he was leaving to retrieve the car and would be waiting for them downstairs in the drive. 

He’d nodded, not bothering to turn around when informing Bob that they would be down momentarily. The muffled sounds of the outer door opening and closing had drifted back to his sensitive ears, then the suite had gone silent, but for the pounding of the girl’s heart. 

It had taken every last bit of control he’d possessed not to bear her back to the bed and remove the jewelry he’d taken great pains to drape over her slender frame. Standing there unmoving, the devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear to take her, that she was now his. His eyes had strayed unconsciously towards the mark he’d left. Seeing it, his gums had burned, his fangs had threatening to drop. 

She’d been oblivious to the silent battle he waged. The one he’d nearly lost. Especially when the smell of her arousal grew heavy in the air at his continued scrutiny. 

Alric had consoled himself with a kiss. Though in hindsight, he should have probably held back and just escorted her from the suite. The taste of her, the way she gave herself over to him so completely – which he instinctively knew had nothing to do with the fact that he owned her – and he’d been ready to chuck his plans for the evening. 

He’d been hard and heavy when he finally pulled away. Silently cursing himself and her for nearly making him forget the mission. He wasn’t there to dally. He had a job to do, and getting involved with a human wasn’t part of it. 

“I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave,” Alric whispered quietly to Bob, who gave a slight nod, indicating that he’d heard. 

Steeling himself, he placed one hand at the small of the girl’s back and guided her toward the entrance. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The club was everything he expected: young women and men, predominately of Asian descent, though a few Caucasians were thrown in for good measure, all of them high on an assortment of drugs and alcohol, grinding together on the dance floor. Their bodies glistening with sweat. Waitresses wearing even less than most of the patrons served drinks, and when they weren’t doing that, they were servicing the men – in most cases, those of an advanced age – lounging on couches and chairs about the room. 

Alric followed behind the man that had greeted them the moment they’d stepped through the front door. As they wended their way among the smattering of tables and chairs, he scanned the club discreetly, taking note of its security. The more obvious guards, those dressed in black with the word security emblazed in white upon their chest, stood near the exits and along the walls, content in their roles as overseers. He also picked out a few others that mingled amongst the crowd, thinking themselves anonymous. What they didn’t realize was that their body language gave them away. 

They finally stopped before an elevator at the back of the building. 

At a slight nod from their host, the guard inserted a key and the doors slid open. Alric ignored the hard look he got from the burly man and nudged the girl forward to follow after their guide. He stepped in after her and positioned himself so that he could easily reach his katana – if it were needed. 

The elevator went down, not up, Alric noticed. And it made him curious as to just how far the underground facilities extended. 

“This way, please,” the Chinaman directed them in halting English once the doors opened on the lowest level. 

The tastefully decorated hallway was deserted and completely devoid of sound at first. What Adam said came back to him, and Alric shifted his duster to make it easier for him to reach for his weapon. 

“You wouldn’t by chance be leading me into a trap?” he asked conversationally, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his hand-crafted sword. 

The Chinaman saw it; his eyes widened perceptively and he rushed to reassure the vampire, reverting to his native tongue in his haste to explain that the walls were soundproofed for extra privacy, and that any second now he would be able to make out trace sounds of the music blaring from within the club, noise that no amount of insulation could prevent. 

They rounded a corner and Alric heard it – the low thud of bass. His hand left his sword and slipped possessively around his slave’s waist and he shrugged his shoulders to allow the coat he was wearing to shift so that it once more concealed his weapon. 

“It’s okay, yes?” 

Alric inclined his head and watched as the man rushed ahead to open the door for them. 

They were met at the threshold by a young woman who greeted them pleasantly enough. Alric could see the hopelessness in her eyes, however, that she was resigned to her fate; it was probably why she was given the duty as the official greeter for tonight’s party. 

“May I take your coat?” she asked politely. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. 

“The girl?” The hostess inclined her head, indicating his slave, and he nodded and reached for the fastenings at her neck. He pulled it free, leaving the girl nude but for the tiny thong she wore – a new one he’d chosen from a selection Bob had picked up – and the jewelry draped strategically over her body from neck to ankles. 

With the cloak now free, revealing to the room at large just what, exactly, she was, Alric wasn’t surprised when she stepped out of her shoes and dropped to her knees at his feet. The shoes were taken along with the girl’s cloak and removed to the coat closet. A glance about the room revealed a few other species of demons and their pets, as well as a smattering of businessmen dressed in suits, their every need being seen to by the young girls that circulated the room. 

“This way please,” the girl announced once she’d returned. 

Alric noticed that even in the exclusive underground portion of the private club there was a hierarchy as well. He was led up a winding staircase to the upper levels. Another guard – human – stood at the open doorway and nodded politely as he entered. 

“Please make yourself comfortable. Our hosts will be joining you shortly.” 

The room had its own bar and he counted maybe a handful of demons inside. A few looked up at his approach, some even nodded in greeting – to which he inclined his head slightly in return. He gave them all a wide berth and chose an empty couch that butted up against a wall, pulling his katana out and laying it within easy reach on the cushion next to him as he sat down. 

“C’mere.” 

He quirked his finger at his slave indicating his desire to have her sit on his lap rather than at his feet. She complied readily enough and his arms slipped around her back and pulled her up against his chest. He didn’t stop to question his need to have her close, having given up second guessing his decisions as far as the girl was concerned. 

“Can I get you a drink?” a girl even younger than the last asked. 

Alric grinned and brushed his slave’s hair back from her neck revealing his bite marks. 

“Got my own, sweets. But thanks all the same. You can be a doll and bring my pet a glass of water though.” 

He ignored the way his slave stiffened slightly in his arms. Ignored too, the way her heart seemed to kick into overtime, thumping away inside her chest and drowning out the bass of the music blaring from the lower level. The rapid cadence was its own special lure and he’d fall under its spell if he were not careful. 

And he needed his wits about him tonight. 

If things went according to plan, the girl could be on a plane bound for home in a few days. 

He brushed aside the pang the thought caused and determined to bury his emotions. For a while it seemed to work, and Alric passed the time by cataloguing the demons and sizing them up as adversaries. Then he moved on to the humans, starting with the club’s security. 

Thankfully the girl was quiet, content to be ignored. 

But as she continued to sit there, curled on his lap, her head resting trustingly on his shoulder, Alric found he couldn’t maintain his distance. There’d been something about her that had made him buy her, and it was that something that drove him to finally touch her. 

It was her soft whimpers of pleasure, the way her body arched into his hand seeking more of the same that kept him at it, long after he sensed their hosts’ presence in the room. It was only when they began walking towards him that he reluctantly pulled away and focused his attention on the small crowd drawing near. 

“Mr. Maximilian, we are pleased that you could make it,” a junior lackey greeted him. “May I introduce Wah Sing Ku, and his business associates, Li Lum Chang and Zu-Wu Qian? They are the consortium behind the trade show here in Chinatown.” 

Alric filed the names away in his brain so he could give them to Adam later. Setting the girl off his lap, he smiled in greeting and rose to his feet, bowing slightly to the three men. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your party. Please, would you like to sit? Join me for a drink?” He gestured to the couch. 

“I’m afraid Mr. Wah and the others need to mingle and greet their other guests. But, please, enjoy yourself. And if you desire someplace more… _discreet_ … you need only ask.” 

Alric plastered a smile on his face and stifled the disappointment he felt. Apparently separating demons from their ill-got gains was allowed, but actually socializing with the denizens of the underworld was where the trio drew the line. Not a bad philosophy given that at any moment any one of their guests could turn on them. 

And no amount of security personnel would be able to prevent it. 

It didn’t matter. He’d gotten what he came for – a name. Three, in fact. 

“Thank you.” He gave another brief nod and resumed his seat on the couch as the group of Chinamen moved off. 

Left to his own devices with time to kill until he could politely make his excuses, Alric turned his attention to the girl and picked up where he’d left off. 


	7. Chapter 7

She’d obviously lost her mind, and what will she had before being captured. There was no other explanation for her wanton behavior – and in a public place no less. 

Not that any of the club’s other patrons were paying them the least bit of interest, intent as they were on their own amusements. Or so she thought. 

Tala stifled a moan before she realized that her master enjoyed each and every noise she made. His lips latched onto her neck and sucked at the mark he’d made earlier, and she was helpless to prevent the shiver of pleasure that went through her body, or the way her back arched, shoving her bare breast more firmly into the hand fondling it so lovingly. The thumb brushing back and forth across her nipple had her whimpering with need. 

“Please,” she whispered. And she didn’t know if it was to make him stop, or whether it was a plea for more. 

He seemed to think she wanted more, trailing his lips from her neck to her chest to latch onto the distended bud he’d been teasing. Her head fell back and she keened her pleasure. Her hands, which heretofore had been lying by her sides, somehow managed to find their way into his hair to hold him in place – too far gone to realize the huge no-no she was committing by touching him without his express permission. 

The growl that rumbled in his chest and the way he attacked her breast with renewed vigor indicated that he clearly didn’t mind. 

Music faded to the background, as did the muted conversations being carried on all around her. Her world narrowed to just her and her master, and the things he was making her feel. 

A hand slipped between her legs and she didn’t even flinch at the touch – not even when she felt her throng drawn aside and a cool finger traced up and down along her slit. If anything, she strained to get closer. To ease the ache he was causing between her legs. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

It took a minute for the quietly uttered words to penetrate her pleasure-induced haze. Especially given that his hand and mouth hadn’t bothered to stop and wait for her reply. Tala tried to get out that no, she didn’t, but nothing would come out of her mouth. She shook her head, praying that it would be enough. 

“No? You want me to stop?” 

One finger teased her opening and it was all she could do not to scream; his teasing was going to drive her crazy. 

She shook her head in answer to his question. 

“No? You don’t want me to stop?” His voice was a husky purr against her breast. 

She nodded. 

“Yes? So you like what I’m doing to you then?” 

Again she nodded. 

Alric teased her with his finger, sliding it knuckle-deep inside her pussy. 

“Feel good, pet? Do you like having my finger inside you?” 

“Please, Master.” 

“Please what, pet?” 

“I…” 

“Please put my finger inside you. Please touch my clit. You’re gonna have to tell me, pet. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please… your finger…” 

“You want it here… or _here_?” he asked, his voice dropping another octave as he removed his finger from her pussy and moved it up to her clit, rubbing the single digit in a circular motion around the sensitive nub. 

His eyes faded to a deep amber at seeing how responsive she was, how eager she was for his touch. 

He could lay her back on the couch and fuck her right there in front of anybody and she’d let him. Would be eager for it, in fact. 

Because she was his slave. His property. His to command. 

He stilled abruptly and stared down at the creature writhing on his lap. 

_What the hell am I thinking?_

Alric looked up to see no less than five other demons staring at him, and the show he’d been about to give them. He vamped and snarled in their direction and all but one turned away. The last one, he noticed, was the demon that had been bidding against him for the girl. 

“Mine,” he snarled at the other, his demon not liking how the other seemed to be challenging his claim. He brought the girl upright in his arms until she straddled his lap facing him. His eyes boring into the other demon’s over her shoulder, Alric fisted his fingers in her hair and yanked her head to the side, exposing his faux-claim mark. 

His fangs sliced into her neck before he had time to think about what he was doing, ignoring the girl’s pain-filled gasp and how the other demon’s eyes narrowed angrily. His demon would not be denied. The girl was his, would always be his. Only his. 

Her blood smeared his lips when he finally tore his mouth free from her throat. 

“Mine!” he demanded, glaring up into her tear-streaked face. 

Tala stared down at him, her master. There was something in his manner that demanded her total capitulation. Her eyes trained on him, she nodded solemnly. 

“Say it!” he growled. “Tell me.” 

It came to her then, the words he needed to hear. 

“Yours… now and forever,” she whispered. One hand lifted to hesitantly trace the ridges on his brow. Anything to placate him. To bring back the gentle lover she’d lost. 

The tension in Alric ebbed at her pledge, his demon now appeased. There was just one thing left to do. He drew her down for a kiss, nicking his tongue as he did so. 

Her mouth was already open, sensing that this was to be no chaste meeting of lips. And she was right. His tongue thrust inside her mouth without preamble, forcing her to swallow the small amount of blood pooling in his mouth. She did, and he continued to kiss her a moment before reluctantly pulling back, whispering in her ear the words that would bind them together for all eternity. 

_“Blood of my blood, forever marked mine.”_

~*~*~*~*~ 

The demon was still staring daggers at him when Alric reluctantly pulled away and helped the girl to her feet. He made a production of retrieving his katana from the seat cushion as he stood, letting the other get a good look at it before clasping it about his waist. If the demon wanted to fight, he was more than ready for him. 

It would be completely in character as Mr. Maximilian to cheerfully separate the demon’s head from his neck for daring to covet what was not his. His brief confrontation in the pits had proven as much. 

The Chinamen, however, could see that a situation was brewing, much to his disappointment, and Alric had to console himself with growled threats if the demon so much as looked crossways at him again. 

“Let’s go, pet.” 

Alric guided the girl down the winding staircase and over towards the door, pausing only long enough to retrieve her heels and cloak before they departed the club. The lackey that had escorted them inside materialized at his elbow for their return trip, soliciting questions as to his enjoyment of the party. 

“I enjoyed myself immensely, and please convey my appreciation to your bosses for the invitation.” 

The Chinaman affected a bow as he walked slightly ahead of the vampire, murmuring that he would relay his regards. 

When they reached the main part of the club, Alric palmed his cell phone and dialed Bob’s number. It was answered almost immediately, who informed him that he was pulling out of the valet parking and would meet them at the front entrance. Alric snapped the phone closed and resettled it in his pocket, and with his hand in the small of his slave’s back, steered her towards the front door. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Why don’t you take a shower, pet? Wash the smoke off. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

Tala nodded her compliance as she stepped out of her high heels and shrugged out of her cloak, handing both to the chauffeur. The jewelry clinking against her body marked her progress from the living room to the bedroom. Two sets of eyes followed her until she was out of sight. 

She left the bedroom door open, Alric was pleased to see, and he spared one final glance in her direction before he turned away to boot up his laptop. 

He had a few names to give Adam. 

He’d no sooner transmitted the encrypted information than his cell phone began to jingle in his pocket. Rolling his eyes, he pulled it out and connected the call. 

“Are you sure about these names?” Adam demanded not bothering with a greeting. 

“Well, hello to you too,” Alric groused. “And yes, I’m sure. I was right there when their lackey introduced us. Rather hard _not_ to get the names right. Why?” 

“Wah Sing Ku is Chinese Triad, or was… It’s safe to say the others are as well. If the Chinese mafia is trying to break into the demon underground…” He left the rest unsaid. Alric knew what would happen. Other gangs from around the world would want a piece of the action. Human slaves would become a premium commodity and they’d have a problem of epic proportions on their hands. “I’ll inform our sire and see if I can find out whether Wah and the other two are acting on their own, or if the Triad is somehow involved. What are your plans for tomorrow?” 

“Mingle in the crowd, see if I can get a lead on some of the top breeders. We may have to cut off a few arms in addition to the head.” 

“Guard your back.” 

“Always. Should I still look for you tomorrow night?” 

“Probably. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if our sire will have us leave tonight. In light of this new information, I think he’ll want to move fast. And truth be told, I think we could all do with a bit of fresh air. We’ve been cooped up at Jocelyn’s place long enough.” 

Alric laughed. 

“It’s been what? Barely a week?” 

“A week’s too long, if you ask me,” Adam grumbled. “Anyway… the building off Factory Road would be my guess. I think Spike will want to maintain your cover for now, so we won’t stop in at the Landmark.” 

“Alright.” Alric mentally breathed a sigh of relief for the reprieve. 

The two said their goodbyes and Alric hung up the phone. 

“Bob?” 

The chauffeur appeared by the vampire’s side. 

“Yes, Max?” 

“Take a drive.” 

“Um… for how long, sir?” 

Alric’s eyes were trained on his bedroom and what he knew he’d find the moment he walked inside. 

“I’ll see you after breakfast.” 

Which meant sometime after three in the afternoon, Bob thought. He sighed heavily and grabbed the car keys from the table. 

“Very good, sir. Do you require anything while I’m out?” 

“No. There’s money in the console if you get tired. Actually... just call down to the front desk and book a room for the night. Have them bill me for it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bob?” 

“Yes, Max?” 

“Call me sir once more, and I’ll tell Buffy you have a girlfriend.” 

“But I don’t— Understood, s— Max.” 

“Good. Now get out of here.” 

Bob didn’t take exception to the vampire’s tone. He’d sensed a change in Alric the moment he’d picked him up from the club. The furtive glances he’d cast toward the bedroom throughout his entire conversation with Adam had been telling as well. 

Something had happened between him and the human girl inside the club. Something profound. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow around three,” Bob told him. 

Alric gave him a distracted nod, his feet already carrying him towards the bedroom… and the girl he’d claimed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy and Spike had just collapsed onto the bed when there was a knock at their bedroom door. 

“Come.” Spike called out. 

“Sire,” Adam began as he opened the door. “I’ve news from Alric.” 

“Is he alright?” Buffy asked. Beside her, Spike rolled his eyes at her immediate motherly concern. 

“He’s fine, Buffy. He’s given me some information, however.” 

“What is it?” Spike asked, sitting up, sensing his childe’s urgency. 

“The people running the trade show are Chinese Triad… or were. If this gets out or is allowed to finish…” 

“We’ll have these bloody things popping up all over the place,” Spike concluded. He stood and reached for his jeans; Buffy grabbed her robe and slipped it on. “Gather the others in the study. We’re leaving for the city tonight.” 

Adam nodded and left, having already expected the order. 


	8. Chapter 8

Bob had just acquired a room for the night and was on his way back to the bank of elevators when the porter who had shown them to their room the other night – Jimmy, he suddenly remembered – began frantically motioning him over as he stood nearly hidden by one of the huge potted plants. 

“You’re Mr. Maximilian’s man, correct?” he asked. 

His gaze was darting all over the lobby and Bob tensed. 

“Yes… what is it?” 

“A man… he… he was asking about Mr. Maximilian a few minutes ago. Ms. Le Feuvre didn’t tell him anything, but I saw him corner another of the help. Information… it’s like… well, you can make a lot of money at it…” 

“What did he say?” 

“I don’t know… but, I heard Jonesy give the man Mr. Maximilian’s room number.” 

Bob had his cell phone out and was already dialing Alric’s number before Jimmy had a chance to finish. 

“Find me when your shift ends, Jimmy,” he told the boy and took off running towards the staircase. 

The phone rang five times before Bob gave up and disconnected. Cursing a mile a minute, he pocketed the phone and drew his handgun and quickly screwed on his silencer, praying he wasn’t too late. His feet were a blur of motion as he took the stairs two and three at a time as he raced up to the fifth story. He crouched at the door leading out onto the floor and opened it slowly, his gun preceding him out into the hallway. 

His eyes took in his surroundings in a sweeping glance, his gun cocked and ready, a bullet already chambered. Nothing caught his attention, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention, telling him something was… _off_. His shoes made not one whit of sound on the carpet as he walked stealthily towards Alric’s suite. 

A scream rent the air and Bob took off running. 

It had been the girl. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The water was running when Alric entered the bedroom. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly on one of the winged back chairs, and strode purposefully towards the bathroom. 

The girl’s leather thong lay discarded on one of the throw rugs and he figured she must still be wearing her jewelry since it was nowhere to be seen. 

His eyes were drawn towards the smoky glass surrounding the shower. Damn near drooling at the blurry image of her standing beneath the spray, head flung back so that the ends of her hair grazed her ass. The move thrust her breasts forward and if he concentrated hard enough, he could see the nipples hardening beneath the onslaught of the water beating down on her frame. 

His dick, already hard, swelled even more at the delectable picture she made. 

And she was all his. His to fuck with cock and fangs. His to protect. To cherish. 

She was just _his_. 

All the reasons why it was such a bad idea to claim her didn’t matter any longer. It was done now. A _fait accompli_. He’d never let her go. Just the thought of her ever leaving his side was enough to get his demon up, his human mask fading as its desire to claim her fully became prominent in his mind. To prove to her – and to himself – that she belonged to him. 

He opened the shower door with the intention of doing just that. Draw her out from beneath the water and take her to bed. He stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, dragging her back against his chest. His cock, hard and heavy, was sandwiched between his stomach and her back; sweet blessed torture as he ground himself against her. Her moan was music to his ears. 

Alric lowered his head to the girl’s neck; his tongue darted out to lap at the barely healed marks there. Then couldn’t resist piercing her flesh and making them bleed again. The scent of her blood washed over him again. Strong, more powerful now that she was his – something akin to Buffy’s or even Spike’s. 

She cried out at the slight pain. _Master_. 

And he cringed slightly at the moniker. 

He wanted it to be _his_ name she cried. Alric, not master. She was no longer his slave – not that she ever was, at least in his mind – she was just his. 

Perhaps on the morrow he could explain that to her. 

After he and his clan had seen to the Triad and brought down their operation. 

Alric drove his fangs deeper, unable to resist taking another long pull of her blood. She went limp in his arms, and he caught her easily, holding her close. 

Something – a sound, perhaps – caused him to still suddenly. He lifted his head and strained to hear. Nothing but the sound of running water and the girl’s accelerated heartbeat and breathing came back to him, but he knew he wasn’t alone. Someone was in his suite. Someone that wasn’t Bob. 

As casually as he could, Alric cut off the taps and opened the shower door. He guided the girl out and wrapped her in one of the huge hotel towels hanging on the rack, hastily running his tongue over his latest marks before leading her cautiously out into the bedroom. The bathroom, though larger than most, was too small to maneuver in if it came down to a fight; the bedroom was more than ample to fend off any attacker, and since he was more familiar with the layout, should give him a distinct advantage. Plus, there were things scattered about that he could use as makeshift weapons in the event he was unable to reach his katana – which he’d stupidly left on the dining room table. 

“On the bed, pet,” he told the girl, wanting her as far away from him – and the open bedroom door – as he could get her. 

The words had no sooner left his mouth than the vampire – the one that had stared him down at the Golden Phoenix – charged into the room. Right behind the dagger that he’d thrown and was now protruding from Alric’s chest. 

Alric roared in pain, but it was drowned out by the girl’s scream. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy was standing next to Spike in the study as he went over the game plan when she suddenly clutched her stomach and fell to her knees. 

“Alric,” she whimpered. 

Spike was no less affected as he dropped to the Slayer’s side and carefully drew her into his arms. He glanced up at the others, not surprised in the least at seeing feral eyes gleaming with concern and sudden bloodlust. One of their own had been hurt. 

“Call Bob,” he ground out; Adam was already dialing. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Joyce wandered around the Tate Modern, pausing every now and then before a painting or sculpture that caught her eye. 

She’d arrived in London early yesterday afternoon and booked a room at the quaint Regent Palace Hotel. It wasn’t a five-star by any stretch of the imagination, but it was perfect for what she needed – especially the location. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a girl about her daughter’s age; blonde, too. A wave of loneliness swept over her so she failed to notice the sudden tittering sweeping amongst the crowd at the latest arrivals to the fifth floor. She breathed deeply, struggling to keep a tight lid on her emotions; it wouldn’t do to start crying in public. 

Another breath and she felt safe to move on to the next piece. She read the placard and barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Definitely in the beholder, this one was, Joyce couldn’t help but think. She grinned at the thought and made to move off, but a voice stopped her. 

“You simply _must_ tell me what you find so amusing about this piece,” the woman gushed. “I fear I can’t find the appeal, myself.” 

Joyce snickered, then bit her lip, embarrassed at being caught out. 

“I… nothing. I was thinking of something else,” she finally replied, too flustered to meet the woman’s gaze. It wouldn’t do for her to project her opinions on another. Art was art after all, even grounded up pieces of dried clay that was categorized as abstract, as the piece she was standing in front of was. “Please, excuse me.” 

Joyce made to move off but was stopped by the other woman’s words. 

“Come now… don’t be shy. I’d like an honest opinion. You’re from the states, yes?” 

She paused and turned around. “Yes. I just arrived yesterday. How did you know?” 

“Your accent.” 

“Oh… of course. Silly me.” 

“What brings you to our lovely city? Vacationing?” 

“Actually, I’m here on business, though I do hope to get a bit of sightseeing in while I’m here. I’m looking for some pieces, possibly an artist or two to showcase at my gallery.” 

“Oh, see, Matthew… I _knew_ she had a look about her,” the girl told the man standing quietly at her back. “Your own gallery! That makes you somewhat of an expert, does it not?” 

“Not an expert…” Joyce hastened to correct the woman. “Just… an opinionated person, I guess you could say.” 

“Posh!” she leaned in conspiratorially. “So… tell me… is it bad?” 

Joyce bit her lip, debating whether or not to give her opinion of the piece. For all she knew, the girl was the artist. 

“It’ll be our secret. And, truth be told, I could use a laugh right about now. This showing, I’m afraid, has been rather dull.” 

Joyce could feel herself wavering, finally deciding once seeing the slight twinkle in the girl’s eyes. She leaned in and whispered, “I was just thinking to myself that that piece of… um… clay. Well, you know the saying ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’? That one definitely qualifies.” 

Jocelyn couldn’t help it; she tilted her head back and laughed outright. 

The woman’s sudden laughter was what made Joyce look at the woman more closely. And the more she did, the more she felt she’d met her somewhere before. Her features seemed familiar, yet, judging by the woman’s clothes, she could tell she was from money. Old money. Her gaze moved up to the man by her side, and she couldn’t help but gasp. 

She’d definitely seen him before. 

“Hello, Joyce,” Joseph murmured just loud enough for her to hear but not be overheard by the people milling about. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“I know you,” she whispered. She turned back to the woman, staring hard as she struggled to place her. 

“Jocelyn Allen, Countess of Hastings,” the woman replied, extending her hand. 

Somehow, Joyce’s hand found its way into the other’s and shook it briefly. She couldn’t let go, however, as she stared at the woman – vampiress – thoughts of her daughter suddenly overwhelming her. Jocelyn was talking, introducing her date. Not as Joseph Maitland, which was the name she’d known him by, but as Matthew Spalding, a New York businessman. She nodded and forced herself to release Jocelyn’s hand in order to shake the other’s. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Summers.” 

“I… uh…” 

“Would you join us?” Jocelyn cut in smoothly. She could see one of the gallery’s managers bearing down on them, most likely to give her the “royal” treatment – something she could certainly do without. “We were about to go up to the restaurant. Have you eaten yet?” 

“No…” In truth, she’d not had much of an appetite this past week. Between packing and missing her daughter, food had been the furthest thing from her mind. She found herself suddenly ravenous now. Like the appearance of the two vampires had released her from her melancholy. 

“Then you simply must join us,” Joseph confirmed, taking the hand she’d yet to remove from his grasp and tucking it into his elbow. He offered his other arm to Jocelyn, and together the three walked off towards the elevators. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

All through dinner, the three talked of mundane topics – her reason for visiting, what she wanted to see, do, and the like. At one point, the chef had come out to inquire as to their meal, blushing profusely when Jocelyn exclaimed over the seabass with cherry tomatoes. Then the restaurant manager had come by, and again she’d complimented the entire staff on the service. 

Now as they sat there sipping their coffees, or in Joseph’s instance, an after dinner brandy, Joyce couldn’t help but bring up her daughter. 

“Buffy’s fine,” Jocelyn assured her. “She and the others are at my estate, though I expect them to— Joseph, are you alright?” Jocelyn glanced sharply at the vamp, not missing how his eyes gleamed an unnatural yellow; his demon was close to the surface. 

“Fine,” he hissed, struggling to keep his human mask. “I’m just…” He stood and indicated the men’s restroom behind him. 

“Of course.” 

“What is it?” Joyce asked once he’d gone. 

“I’m not sure.” Jocelyn’s eyes strayed towards the doors where Joseph had disappeared. Something had happened. Something bad, given his brief loss of control. As much as she enjoyed the exclusivity of being Renee’s childe, she longed for the connection the others had. It was a subject neither she nor Renee had broached yet. But then, much had happened in the past week and she’d been forced to remain in London almost the entire time, while her sire was with Spike and the others in the country. “We should probably be going. Will you be staying in London for a while?” 

“A few weeks. It depends.” 

“Give me your number. I believe Buffy and the others will be journeying to London in a few days to take care of some business. But once they’re back, safely ensconced at my estate, I’ll have you out for a visit.” 

“That… that would be lovely.” 

There were tears in her eyes as Joyce stood. She shook the woman’s hand as Jocelyn stood too. Not stopping there, she drew the vampiress in for a brief hug – she was technically now family, however convoluted. 

“Give Joseph my best,” she murmured and stepped back, gifting her pseudo-daughter with a wobbly smile. 

“I will. Take care, Joyce. I’ll be in touch.” 

“I… I’ll wait to hear from you.” 

Then she turned and walked away, leaving Jocelyn to wonder at Joseph’s odd behavior and his prolonged absence. 


	9. Chapter 9

_Alric roared in pain, but it was drowned out by the girl’s scream._

The dagger buried in his chest hurt… _a lot_. But not to the extent he made it out to be. Heck, his sire had been known to – and _had_ on many occasions – deliver blows much harsher. So, too, had the Ronin warrior that had taught the Clan the way of the samurai. 

Alric wanted the vampire to think he was hurt far worse than he actually was. It would give him a decided edge. Though having sized up the other demon at a quick glance, he really wasn’t going to need much in the way of an advantage. His opponent may have had a few years under his belt, not more than fifty by his estimation, but he was allowing his anger to guide his movements. And his assumption that Alric was easy pickings just because he was visibly hurt was going to be his downfall. 

As he drew near, his hand now carrying a short stake, Alric braced himself, and at the last second, pulled the dagger free with his right hand and easily deflected the short piece of wood aimed at his heart. The other vampire’s eyes widened in shock and maybe a touch of fear as he overshot his mark and was drawn farther into the bedroom, and Alric couldn’t help the grin that stole across his face. 

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Alric taunted in crisp English, having swiveled around to face the vampire, ignoring the blood that flowed freely from the gaping wound in his chest. “The girl is mine, and I protect what belongs to me,” he added with menace, his voice now deceptively low. 

Faster than the eye could see, Alric closed the distance between him and the other vampire, and with his hand fisted around the hilt of the dagger, delivered an uppercut that sent the demon’s head rocking back. Then using the same hand, he drove the tip of the blade straight through his throat so hard that the point was visible at the back of his neck. It didn’t kill him, the dagger was fashioned out of steel after all, and he’d yet to sever the vampire’s head, but it did slice through his vocal cords, rendering him unable to cry out in pain. The vampire’s hands frantically grasped for the hilt as he fell to his knees in front of him, but it was wedged in good and tight; it wasn’t coming out anytime soon. 

The door to his suite was thrust open a second after Alric sensed Bob racing down the hallway towards him. Standing in the open doorway to his bedroom, Alric smirked at the gun his employee held. Bob, having assessed at a glance that his boss had things well in hand, shut the door and sauntered through the living area towards the bedroom. 

“What?” Bob grinned sheepishly, removing the silencer and holstering his weapon back in the shoulder harness tucked discreetly beneath his jacket, the silencer went into an inside pocket. “The boy said ‘man.’ How was I supposed to know it was a vampire that came to pay you a visit?” He walked over to his boss and looked at the demon now writhing on his back, getting blood all over the light beige carpet. “He’s making a mess all over the floor. We’re gonna have to pay for that. Blood won’t come out of the carpet no matter how much hydrogen peroxide you use beforehand. Shoulda just dusted him… ” He looked at Alric, then briefly at the girl staring at them with wide-eyed shock from her place upon the bed. “Why didn’t you anyway?” he asked, returning his attention to his boss. 

Alric quirked his brow. 

“He thought he could take what was mine. Apparently he wasn’t paying attention at the show. Seems another demonstration is in order.” 

Bob snorted, but automatically moved off towards the closet to retrieve the chest that held magically enhanced chains – among a few other things – as Alric bent down and dragged the vampire from the bedroom. 

“More like showin’ off…” he muttered under his breath, though there was a smile in his voice. 

“I heard that!” 

“Well, duh!” 

“Tell me again why we haven’t fired you yet,” Alric asked once Bob joined him in the living room. 

“Because you’d never be able to find anyone else willing to do my job? Not to mention I’m good at what I do.” 

“Uh huh…” Alric’s tone was doubtful, though the human’s words bore a ring of truth, and he wondered if Bob might be a descendant of one of the families that used to serve the Aurelian vampires. 

“It’s true. I’m indispensable. Here… ” Bob handed over the chain links. “One set of magically enhanced manacles.” 

Bob’s announcement got the downed vampire’s attention, and he stopped his struggles with the dagger still firmly embedded in his throat to look at Alric and the human standing next to him. He couldn’t speak to demand what they were going to do with him now, could only watch helplessly as the vampire took the chains and moved closer. 

“You made a fatal mistake coming here, the first being that you could take on a vampire of my caliber,” Alric spoke conversationally as he knelt beside the trembling vampire. “I’ve got over a hundred years on you – _which_ you should have realized back at the club – and I’ve not spent that time languishing in the gutters.” His hand closed around the hilt of the dagger and he yanked it out of the vampire’s throat, tossing it carelessly onto the wooden coffee table next to him. Blood oozed from the gaping wound, but Alric ignored it and flipped the vampire over and clamped each manacle around his wrists and opposing ankles, leaving him to lie on his stomach, arms stretched behind him at an unnatural angle, his feet right along with them. 

“Sit tight,” Alric told the demon, condescendingly patting him on the head as he stood. 

Bob’s cell phone rang as Alric started towards the bedroom to check on the girl; she’d not made a peep since that first scream, although her heart was still beating overtime – and ringing in his ears – and he wanted to make sure that she was alright. 

“He’s fine,” Bob was saying, and Alric barely repressed an eye roll as he guessed at the identity of the caller. He changed directions and snatched the phone out of Bob’s hand. 

“I’m fine…” Mid-conversation, the two vampires immediately reverted to the language they’d long since adopted as their own. “No… I said I’m fine, Adam. Dammit! The day I can’t take… Look. Come to London like you planned, I’ll meet you and you’ll see for yourself— No! We can’t risk you coming here— then put her on the phone and _I’ll_ tell her,” he growled into the receiver. 

“Alric?” Buffy’s frantic voice came over the line a second later. 

“I’m fine, sweets. Just a tiny flesh wound so quit your worrying.” 

“Is it dead yet?” 

Alric didn’t pretend to misunderstand. The Slayer was usually the voice of reason among the clan, she being the human of the bunch. At least she was until it came to one of her own being hurt. Then she and his sire seemed to do a complete role reversal, and it was Spike trying to get Buffy to calm down and see things rationally. 

“No, but he soon will be.” 

“Make sure it hurts.” 

Alric grinned. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” 

“No one messes with what’s mine.” 

With as much as he knew his place among the clan, Alric never got tired of hearing it said, how he _belonged_. To cover the tightness that had settled in the region of his unbeating heart, he teased the Slayer a bit. “I’m sure my sire will have a thing or two to say about that.” 

“You know what I mean, you ass.” 

“I’m here bleeding from a hole in my chest and you’re calling me _names. You wound me, love.” _

“Now I know you’re okay. You _are_ okay? Right, Alric?” 

“I’m fine. I’ll present myself for your inspection tomorrow. Satisfied? Right now, I’ve got some things to take care of…” 

“Don’t disappoint me…” 

He snorted. “You’re as bad as my sire. Like some random vamp has what it takes to do _me_ in.” 

“Speaking of Spike, he wants to talk to you too.” 

“Would you just tell him I’m fine? Sheesh! I’m not some bloody fledge!” he ground out. 

“No, you’re not. But you _are_ the baby of the bunch.” And with that parting shot, she turned the phone over to Spike. 

The conversation with Spike was short and to the point, his sire asking him what had happened, to which he’d fudged a bit on the details, saying only that some vamp from the show had taken issue with him. He wasn’t ready to reveal Tala to the others, especially his sire. And thankfully, him having claimed her wouldn’t have registered on Spike’s “sire” radar. 

Unless he made the mistake of having her amongst them – much like the moment they’d encountered the Slayer for the first time and known in an instant that she’d belonged to Spike. 

Alric was hoping to keep Tala and the clan separated, at least for now. Maybe once he could put a more definitive label to his relationship with the girl, he’d bring her before the clan. Right now he was still reeling from the fact that he’d even claimed her in the first place. 

He finally rang off and pierced Bob with a look. The human met his stare without flinching. 

“I’ll tell him soon. Just… not now…” Alric finally told him. 

“Uh huh. Look, it’s not my place to say anything, but I won’t lie to your sire, just so you know.” 

“I know…” He sighed and glanced over his shoulder to stare at the open doorway leading to the bedroom. 

“Still need me to disappear for a while?” Bob asked, seeing the direction of the vampire’s gaze and the wistful look upon his face. 

“No. We’ve gotta take out the damn _trash_.” 

“I’ll bring the car round then. You… uh… _might_ want to put some clothes on first though. Don’t think the hotel staff would take to you parading around in the altogether in their hotel. At least the public portions anyway. And while you’re at it, maybe see to that wound of yours?” 

Alric glanced down, having forgotten completely that he’d just stepped out of the shower when the other vamp had broken into his hotel room; the towel that he’d wrapped around his hips earlier had fallen away at some point in their brief struggle. He shrugged and turned away, heading back to the bedroom. 

While he was dressing, he could check on the condition of his girl. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala really should have been scared at both the ease with which her new master took out the thing trying to kill him and the brutality of his attack. Part of the reason she wasn’t was because she’d been desensitized to such violent acts thanks to her capture and subsequent enslavement at the hands of Glarshnic. The slaver had a penchant for violence that she’d been witness to time and again. The other reason she wasn’t quivering in fear and screaming at the top of her lungs was thanks to her Indian heritage, and how her tribe had lauded its warriors of old – stories that had been passed down from generation to generation with pride. As a child, it was often the only way her parents could get her to sleep at night. After they’d died, the responsibility had fallen to her and she’d been the one to lull Hakan back to sleep when the nightmares inevitably came. 

Her master was a warrior, she thought with a hint of pride. In another life, another time, he would have been someone she would have been proud to introduce to her family – what remained of them. They would have seen his warrior spirit and welcomed him into the fold without question. 

Tala watched with impassioned eyes as the thing that had meant to harm her master was dragged from the room like so much garbage. She gave a brief thought as to his fate, but knew he wouldn’t be alive for very long. Her owner had been more than willing to take the head of the demon that had dared touch her while they were still inside the slave show, and probably would have if he’d not been stopped by the show’s hosts. An attempt on his life with the intent to steal his property had guaranteed the demon’s death sentence. 

The only question was whether or not it would be taken care of within the walls of their suite. 

Since she’d not been given permission to leave the bed, Tala remained where she was. She heard metal shackles clanking together right before a phone rang. The man – Bob – spoke for a few minutes before he was abruptly cut off. Then it was his voice she heard – just a few words in English and then that abrupt switch to something else. She gave up trying to eavesdrop, knowing it would do no good and would only result in her getting a headache from trying to decipher the various languages he seemed to be speaking in. 

Besides which, it didn’t really matter what he said. It wasn’t like the information would be useful to her. 

Her mind started to wander and so missed hearing her master hang up and begin to speak with Bob. It wasn’t until he’d walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed that she registered his presence. 

“Are you alright?” 

The soothing baritone and soft caress of his hand against her cheek brought her back to the present. Tala lifted her head and could easily see the concern apparent in his gaze. She smiled softly and nodded. 

“Yes, master,” she murmured. 

A frown stole across his features and was gone the next instant, and she wondered briefly if she’d been mistaken in seeing it. He was speaking then and she forgot about it as she concentrated on what he was saying. 

“I’ve got to go out for a little while. You’ll be safe here until I get back.” 

“But… you’re hurt!” 

“It’s nothing. Just a minor flesh wound. It’ll heal soon enough. Come now…” 

He motioned for her to get under the covers and she quickly complied, feeling oddly cherished as he tucked her into bed. When he stood, her eyes tracked him about the bedroom as he first grabbed a towel and cleaned off the blood on his chest before dropping the soiled linen on the floor just inside the bathroom. Then he was back, opening drawers and grabbing clothes. She watched as he dressed hurriedly all in black, finally sitting on one of the chairs to pull on a pair of matching rugged work boots. Then he was back at her side and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Get some sleep,” he murmured as he leaned down and brushed his lips across her brow. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Tala sighed happily and snuggled into the covers. Another kiss, this time to her lips, and he was gone, walking from the room with angry, ground-eating strides, having already adopted his vengeful warrior persona. She smiled and closed her eyes and was nearly asleep when the door to the suite opened and closed, signaling her master’s departure. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Is everything alright?” Jocelyn whispered, just loud enough for Joseph to hear when he emerged from the men’s restroom. 

“Yes.” He smiled and nodded, for the benefit of those who might be watching, continuing in a voice for her ears alone, “There was a slight problem with Alric, but I’ve been assured that everything is fine.” 

And things were too; other than that brief instant of pain felt by him – and the others – nothing else came at him to indicate something had happened to the vampire. Didn’t mean he hadn’t placed a secure call to his sire just to be sure. Especially given that nothing like that had ever happened before. Joseph had wanted reassurance and Spike had given him that. 

The matter had been tabled for the time being while they dealt with demon slave traders, but it was something that the clan would have to explore at length, now that they were all together again. 

“I’ve had enough of this place. What say we get outta here?” 

“I’m ready when you are.” Jocelyn looped her arm through Joseph’s, grateful for once to retreat from the limelight, and she braced herself for a harried exit out of the gallery. “It was a spot of luck that we ran into Buffy’s mom, wasn’t it?” she asked, hoping the inane conversation would put off anyone approaching, and perhaps slowing their exit from the building. 

Joseph couldn’t prevent the Cheshire-like grin at Jocelyn’s naivety. For all her experience with handling the international affairs of her family’s estate, she had no idea the scope of the Clan’s capabilities. 

“Jocelyn, do you honestly think you would have been able to drag me to something like this if Joyce wasn’t going to make an appearance? I’m all for doing my part to perpetuate the illusion of you being a jet-setting socialite, but even _I_ draw the line at art shows,” he muttered under his breath. 

“You’ve been following her?” Jocelyn asked, brows rising in astonishment. Though she recovered quickly enough, her features evening out to reveal only passing interest. 

“And tapping her phone line, tracking her credit card purchases. What did you expect? She’s the Slayer’s mum. Of course we’re gonna look after her.” 

“Spike?” 

“Uh huh...” Joseph smiled knowingly. “He may come across as the Big Bad… well, ok, he _IS_ the Big Bad, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his wife. For any of us, for that matter, you included. And if finagling a meeting with the woman every now and then keeps Buffy happy…” 

Now all they had to do was get the watcher on board. With the two stubborn humans paired up – something they’d all thought would come about in the wake of Buffy leaving Sunnydale, especially given Giles’ behavior around Joyce while in the company of the Clan – maybe then the Slayer would be content. Not that she regretted her decision to leave her mother and stay with Spike, far from it. It hadn’t even _been_ a decision, more like a given. Buffy’s place was with Spike now. It was just that the thought of her mother being alone would sometimes cast a pall upon her normally upbeat mood. 

“Now, come on… Spike and the others will be arriving soon.” 

“Renee too?” 

Jocelyn’s child-like glee at the thought of seeing her sire again was infectious. 

“Uh huh…” He wiggled his eyebrows, adding, “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to her.” 

“Baby, I’m _always_ good,” she whispered in her most seductive voice, then curled into Joseph’s side, close enough to rub her breast against the back of his arm. 

“Minx!” 

The pair skipped out of the gallery and slid into their waiting car, having narrowly evaded the gallery’s manager. At some point along the way, they ditched Jocelyn’s driver, sending him home for the night, and stealthily made their way to the warehouse to meet up with Spike and the others. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Giles wasn’t sure why he was out walking the streets of London on a Saturday evening. He’d spent the day shopping, restocking cupboards after his extended absence, then wandering around the city re-familiarizing himself with the neighborhood, so it wasn’t like he’d actually spent much time at home. At least not enough to make him feel like the walls were closing in on him and he needed to escape. Or, it _shouldn’t_ have felt that way. 

But he’d no sooner poured himself a glass of Scotch and settled in a chair set close to the fireplace to read from one of his books when he’d been assaulted with images of her. Eyes closed, he’d let his head fall back and rest against the back of his chair. His glasses had come off at some point to rest atop the book that no longer held his interest. Ice melted and clinked together in the forgotten glass sitting on the small table next to him as he’d relived those last few days with Joyce. 

_“…According to whom?”_

Doyle’s words had taunted him, so much so, that he’d thrown caution to the wind and called. He’d felt like a pimple-faced schoolboy with his first crush as he waited for the international connection to go through. Only to have the wind knocked out of his sails when the obnoxious recording came over the line that the number had been disconnected. 

Cursing himself for being all kinds of fools, for allowing the Council to influence his decision to walk away, he’d slammed the handset back in the cradle. Then pausing only long enough to secure the fireplace, he’d grabbed his coat and stormed out of his flat. 

Spying a restaurant in the distance, Giles realized that it had been some time since he’d last eaten. His hunger, and the cold nip in the air, propelled him forward, and he found himself suddenly eager for a hot meal. But then he spied someone in the distance, seemingly lost in thought as she hailed a cab. 

_Joyce._

Ignoring the people around him, he broke into a slight jog, which turned into a full out run when a taxi pulled up next to the curb in front of her. Stiff British upper lip be damned. 

“Joyce!” he shouted, even knowing that he wouldn’t be heard through the crush of people milling about. “Joyce! Wait!” 

~*~*~*~*~

Joyce had her hand on the door handle when she thought she heard her name being called. She paused and glanced around, thinking Joseph had come after her. However, the path behind her revealed no signs of the vampire. Sighing, she opened the door and was just about to step inside when she heard her name again. 

It was faint yet insistent, and she took another moment to look around before berating herself a fool. The only people that knew she was even in London she’d parted ways with at the Tate Modern. An impatient toot of the horn forced her to open the door, and she apologized to the driver as she set her bags on the seat and climbed inside. 

“The Regent Palace Hotel, please.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Joyce shut the door and settled back in her seat, waiting for the driver to pull out into traffic. 

The sudden pounding on the car window nearly scared her to death. 

“Ah!” she gasped, clutching at her chest and turning towards the source of the noise. “Rupert?” she whispered. 

The door was flung open and Joyce found herself moving over as Giles made to climb in the back seat with her. 

“Hey!” the driver exclaimed. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’?” 

“It’s alright. I’m acquainted with the lady.” 

The driver looked in the rearview mirror at the man that had barged in on his fare – who apparently only had eyes for the woman next to him, and she for him – and the brief flare of indignation gave way to a sudden smirk. Turning away from the reunion in his back seat, he checked his mirrors and eased out onto the road. 

“What are you doing here—?” “Hello, Joyce…” they spoke at the same time. 

Joyce blushed and glanced away at his piercing look, feeling much like she were back in high school. 

“I’ve missed you,” Giles confessed. “Er… that is…” 

“You have?” Her eyes shot back up to his, unable to look away as his voice trailed off and his hands instinctively sought his glasses. She smiled at the unconscious gesture and watched as he delved into his pocket for a handkerchief, realized he didn’t have one, so returned them to his face. “How… how did you find me?” 

“Would you believe quite by chance?” 

“After what’s happened these last two weeks, I’m inclined to believe just about anything,” she replied ruefully. 

The cab grew quiet until… 

“Would you—?” 

“Would you—?” 

Again they spoke at the same time. 

“You first,” Giles told her. 

“I was just going to say… would you like to get a cup of coffee? Or should I say tea?” 

“Tea would be lovely.” Giles glanced out the window of the cab, saw where they were, and had the driver pull over upon spying an all-night café. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob should have been used to it. Hell, it wasn’t as if he’d never had blood on his hands before – being a good chauffer wasn’t his only qualification. And it wasn’t like he’d never witnessed how the Clan maintained the balance between good and evil once he’d been deemed worthy and allowed into their inner circle. For all that they worked on the side of good, the group could be rather bloodthirsty when the situation warranted. 

But this… 

Alric had gone beyond bloodthirsty and may have even skipped past maniacal in his dealings with the vamp that had dared threaten him. 

It came down to him either leaving the immediate vicinity of where Alric worked, or risk losing what was left of the dinner digesting in his stomach. Alric hadn’t even spared him a glance as he’d beat a hasty retreat, the sounds of the other vampire’s screams of agony ringing in his ears. 

Several hours passed in which he alternately paced outside or sat quietly on the hood of the car, wishing that he’d taken up smoking – or even drinking – so that he’d have something to do to steady his nerves. The screams never ceased; if anything, they continued to grow in volume. Constant pleas for death, for mercy, the only thing disturbing the otherwise silent night. 

More time passed and it was with some shock that Bob glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly four in the morning. Spike and the others were surely in London by now. He pushed himself away from the car and made to go back inside to retrieve Alric and was halfway there when the vampire stepped outside. 

Seeing him, covered in blood and an unholy light shining in his amber-colored eyes… well, it took many silent reminders to himself that Alric wouldn’t hurt him before he swallowed the lump in his throat and asked in a somewhat shaky voice, “All done then?” 

A curt nod was his only response. 

“I’ve a change of clothes in the trunk…” Bob added, and was relieved to see whatever it was that seemed to have taken possession of his boss disappear like it never was. The sharp edge of his expression gave way to one of thanks, and just like that, Alric was back. Smiling his thanks as his demon receded. 

“Thanks, Bob.” 

Alric stripped out of his clothes and stuffed them into the garbage bag Bob held up and made quick work of pulling on the spare set. 

“What time is it?” Alric asked, gazing up at the sky. 

“Gone four o’clock.” 

The vampire grunted, and Bob thought he heard something that sounded like “not nearly long enough.” 

“Spike and the others should be here by now. Are we headed there next?” 

“If we don’t, I’ll have the lot of them descend upon my hotel room.” 

“And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Bob grinned. 

“No, Bob,” Alric growled. “We wouldn’t.” 

“Well, get in the car. I’ll put this in the trunk,” he told the vamp, indicating the bag in his hand, “and we can get out of here. Do I need to come back later and clean this up?” he yanked his head in the direction of the warehouse. 

“No.” 

The vampire’s remains would be a lesson to all that dared touch what belonged to him. 

Alric settled himself in the back seat and waited for Bob. The ten-minute ride to Spike and the others was completed in silence. 

Bob spent the time reflecting on his boss’ unusually harsh retribution. 

Alric spent the time getting his emotions under control before he faced his sire. That and thinking up a plausible excuse as to why he was attacked in his hotel room in the first place – without outright lying to him. 

And beneath it all was the burning need to get back to the girl. To drown in her scent, and have her covered in his. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Even from across the room, Spike could sense the seething rage Alric struggled to contain beneath an outwardly calm appearance. His nostrils flared at the blood he scented, both his childe’s and the vampire that had tried to cross him. The others smelled it too, and were waiting for a better story than the terse explanation provided over the phone, although they all continued with what they were doing after greeting Alric. 

They had a lot to get accomplished in a short amount of time, it being early Sunday morning. The trade show was only scheduled to run until that evening. 

“Is it dead?” Spike asked, once Alric stood in front of him. His hands went to his childe’s shirt, lifting the hem away to see for himself the damage that had been done. He scowled upon spying the stake-sized hole in Alric’s shoulder that had yet to fully close. Felt his temper flare that someone had dared hurt one of his own. 

“Of course,” Alric smirked readily enough, his eyes flitting briefly to amber in remembrance of the previous hours spent torturing the other vampire. At complete odds with how he stood docilely while his sire turned him this way and that, finally setting tongue to the jagged edges to get the wound to heal. 

When he was done, Spike offered his wrist. 

“Tonight’s going to be a busy night. I need you in top form,” he offered by way of explanation. 

Alric finished far sooner than Spike would have liked, but he relented when his childe insisted he was fine. 

“Alright, then. Come on. I’ll bring you up to speed on what Adam’s managed to find out. This ends tonight.” 

Spike’s words were an unspoken signal to the group, and everyone migrated towards the table set up in a conference room a few doors down the hall. 


	11. Chapter 11

From the relative safety of the bedroom doorway, Alric stared at the girl huddled beneath the covers, only her face left exposed. His demon let out a happy rumble; an odd feeling of contentment at being back in her presence washed through him. She looked no older than a child lying there so peacefully, yet he wanted her regardless; he knew full well that she was anything but child-like in manner. Even now he could hear the steady thrum of “mine” begin to reverberate in his head, threatening to overcome his resolve to leave her be. Knowing that it would be better to retreat to the shower and wash away the dirt, grime, and blood of his adversary, then catch a few hours’ sleep on the couch. 

The girl was an innocent. As soon as she’d fulfilled her purpose – and part of him was wondering if he’d even needed to use her at all – she would be free to leave. Back to her life, her family. 

The sharp pang he felt at that thought, he completely ignored. 

It wasn’t her fault he’d claimed her in a moment of possessive anger. That she completed the claim was irrelevant; she’d had no idea what she was saying, or what it meant. Holding her to her promise, to an eternity spent with him, hardly seemed, for lack of a better word, fair. She was a helpless victim, taken by demons and forced into the role of slave. Keeping her would only perpetuate the wrong that had been done to her. 

Alric sighed at the recent turn of events his unlife had taken. Wondering when it had become so _complicated_ , to the point where he was lying to his sire by omission. He stilled as the girl suddenly rolled over and reached out towards his side of the bed. 

_Mine_ , his demon shouted triumphantly, never mind smugly. Having called to her on a purely instinctive level and seen the proof of her response, it thought nothing of gloating. Alric barely refrained from snorting out loud. 

_She’s leaving... get used to it._

Now if he could only figure out whom he was trying to convince. Because when he finished mentally berating himself, Alric saw that he was halfway to the bed with every intention of joining the girl. Shaking his head, Alric launched into round two of “supposed to be leaving the girl alone, dammit” as he stomped off towards the bathroom. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Did Alric seem to be acting strange to you?” Buffy asked Spike after the others had left to rest up before their confrontation with the Triad later that night. “On edge, maybe?” 

Spike debated telling her about the demon his childe reeked of, finally deciding it couldn’t hurt. 

“I don’t think that’s all of it,” Buffy admitted when Spike finished. “I mean, yeah, I get the whole torture bit. But you know Alric. Our calm, cool, always-in-control Alric...” 

Spike quirked a brow and waited for the Slayer to continue. 

“I don’t know… it just seemed like… well, he reminded me of the time he confronted Angel.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Angry. Territorial. And I mean _very_.” 

Now it was Spike’s turn to frown, and he made a mental note to have a chat with Alric once the business with the slavers was dealt with. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric had every intention of dressing and leaving the bedroom, and the huge king-sized bed, to the girl. He’d given himself a thorough talking to in the shower, listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t become attached to her. Then there was how he’d become acquainted with her in the first place. And while his sire probably wouldn’t have cared, he knew Buffy wouldn’t let the matter slide. It would matter naught that he’d never actually treated the girl like a slave. 

Technically. 

How he ended up in bed with her, Alric couldn’t say. One minute he’d been standing at the dresser, his hands gripping the handles of one of the drawers, the next he was across the room and sliding between the sheets. His towel had disappeared en route. 

Things seemed to go downhill from there. Downhill in the sense that he wasn’t supposed to be doing what he was doing. Or enjoying it so damn much. 

But the girl was his – according to vampiric law _and_ her own words – and there was just no getting around that fact. Ignoring her presence could be likened to going an entire day without feeding then being presented with Sire’s blood, only to claim he wasn’t hungry. Fucking impossible, was what it was. 

His arm wrapped around her waist and drew her body back against his. He grinned at the tiny mewl that escaped her lips when his erection pressed into her ass, at how she arched back against his chest, trying to get closer. Her response went straight to his head – both of them. His body grew taut with the need to possess her. The hand that had been holding her in place slid lower. Down into the soft thatch of hair and beyond. Drawing a line along her slit, up and back, up and back. Over and over, until his finger was nice and wet. 

Alric finally caved to his own need to see how her pussy felt wrapped around his finger, sliding it in as far as it would go. The heat wasn’t unexpected, but it was more intense, given that it was her. Making him want to push the girl to her back and replace it with his dick. Unsure whether he wanted to fuck her hard and fast, or take his time see how long he could take things slow before he gave into his needs. Even knowing that she was a virgin, and a human one at that, wasn’t enough to tamp down his desire to take. 

Alric didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes had bled to yellow as he continued to pleasure her. His face started to shift; his fangs itched with an irrepressible need to sink into her neck. To once again taste her blood, flavored to perfection now that she was claimed as his. 

And he wondered, not for the first time – and what surely wouldn’t be the last – what it was about the girl that made him lose every bit of his hard-earned self-control. Why his demon seemed dead set on pushing and prodding until it got its way. 

Like now. 

His fangs grazed the skin on her shoulder, nicking her flesh and exposing the scent of her blood to the air, and his sensitized nose. 

She smelled of him. Just that tiny bit of blood he’d made her swallow to complete the claim had branded her as his own. 

_Mine_ , his demon crowed. Happy that it had gotten its own way. That it was finally going to get to finish what it had started. 

Alric lapped greedily at the droplets of blood. Swirled the taste in his mouth before swallowing it down. 

She tasted like him. Tasted like Spike. Buffy too. All the Clan actually, given how often they shared each other’s blood. 

She tasted like home… 

He could drain her dry and still be greedy for more – not that such a thing was possible now. With his bite, he’d given her immortality. The only way she’d die would be if he were to dust. And even then, his sire would no doubt take her in. Claim the girl on his behalf. Or one of the others would do it. She was family now, after all. His. 

Alric knew the second the girl’s restless twitching gave way to wakefulness. Her heart rate sped up and she began to pant; her legs fell open even farther, giving his fingers more room to work. Encouraging a deeper penetration. 

Never one to turn down an opportunity, he added a second finger to the first, twisting his hand so that he could circle her clit with his thumb. His other hand, having been idle long enough, began to tease one of her nipples. Rubbing it between thumb and forefinger until it was nice and hard, then started on the other. 

His mouth returned to her neck to nibble lightly at the pale skin there. She smelled and tasted faintly of the hotel’s body wash. Chamomile and something else. Innocence, perhaps? He wasn’t sure; it had been a good long while since he’d smelt that elusive aroma. Long before he’d broken away from the Aurelian family and formed a new one with his sire. Before his father had announced in no uncertain terms when he’d gained his majority that as the third son of a Viscount, he’d have to make his own way in the world. That the Sotheby coffers had run dry as far as he was concerned. 

Alric still remembered the look on his mother’s face as he’d walked out the front door, wanting desperately to call him back, but unable to do so with her husband standing next to her, a firm hand on her shoulder. 

He’d had the last laugh, however. 

A few years spent on the open seas learning everything he could about manning a ship, buying goods, and the types of people to do business with had armed him with a healthy knowledge of the shipping trade. He’d taken that knowledge, and the small trust fund left him by a distant relative, and opened a small shipping business. In a few short years, he’d doubled, then tripled, his money. He’d gained a few friends – Clayton, in particular – and been introduced to the house of Aurelius. 

Alric stilled as the memories of his human family returned unbidden. He’d not thought of them since… long before he’d made a name for himself. Not since he’d walked out of his familial home for the last time. A home that he could have easily bought ten times over before he’d liquidated a good majority of his assets and “died.” Disappearing with Spike and the others. 

He’d never bothered to look them up in the years since, uncaring as to what had become of them, or what had remained of his fortune. Then again, the only one that had kept in touch with her human family had been Renee. And that only because she and her brother had been inseparable. 

The restless energy of the girl in his arms pulled him out of his morose thoughts, and Alric mentally shook his head, marveling at what could have possibly triggered such obscure memories. Unwilling to dwell any longer on his life prior to becoming a vampire, Alric focused his attention back on his “slave.” 

His hands and mouth returned to what they were doing. He felt her tense momentarily, then relax into his touch. Her breath hitched and damned if his dick didn’t stand up and take notice. Not that it had wavered in the least, given that his claimant was naked and pressed up against him and seemingly willing; it had been his mind that had gone on walkabout there for a bit. But he was back. Firmly in the here and now, and eager – no, desperate – to make her his completely. 

He slammed the door on the voice that reminded him he was supposed to be letting her go once they were finished with Clan business later tonight. Ignored, too, how it told him he’d be well served to leave her be. That taking her would only make things harder in the end. 

His demon snorted at that small bit of advice. 

And just like that, Alric knew. 

The girl _wouldn’t_ be going home. Or to whatever place she used to call home. Not now. Not ever. His demon had claimed its Consort, and there was no place on earth she could go that he wouldn’t find her. 

Finally at peace with himself, Alric pulled away and rolled the girl onto her back. He settled himself between her legs and propped on his forearms so that he could look down at her. Her face showed her confusion and her need, and Alric wanted to smooth away the frown lines between her brows with a kiss. 

Instead his face grew serious. 

“Tell me your name.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala stared up at her master, her emotions bouncing back and forth like the yoyo her brother was fond of playing with. One minute he’d had his fingers inside her while the other hand did sinful things to her breasts – not to mention the lip action he had going on with her neck. It had felt so good. Then he’d stopped, and she’d been hard pressed not to scream her frustration. 

Only her training had managed to save her, though if Glarshnic had caught sight of her agitated state, it would have resulted in a beating for sure. One she would have gladly risked if it got her master back to the task at hand. 

And how scary was it that she wanted to encourage the vampire’s touch? 

She’d actually bit her lip when he stopped the second time. Barely managing to smooth away the disgruntlement that was surely showing on her face when she was rolled to her back. But then her master had settled between her legs, and it wasn’t his fingers nudging her cleft now. 

His penetrating stare had her floundering, trying to figure out what she’d done to warrant his displeasure. 

The question, when it came, had shocked her into silence. So much so, that he had to ask it again – and _that_ was sure to earn her a swift beating. 

“Tala,” she stuttered out; it sounded strange coming from her lips. For the last six months, it had been a terse “girl,” or “pet,” or even just “you,” or “human.” It was like being captured had stripped her of herself. And essentially, it had. 

After a particularly harsh beating – one that her brother had been made to watch – Glarshnic had taken great delight in telling her about what fate awaited her once she’d been sold. Going so far as to expound upon some of the more prevalent demons’ anatomies. How the sheer size would probably rip her to shreds. 

He’d laughed when she’d lost her lunch at some point during his commentary. Then his eyes had narrowed and become shrewd. He’d looked at Hakan, and she’d known. 

To spare her brother, she’d made a deal with the devil. Her blind obedience for Hakan’s life. 

Tala had become Glarshnic’s perfect slave, determinedly squashing the warrior spirit that threatened to rise up time and again as she learned everything she needed to know in order to become a demon’s plaything. 

Which was why she reacted eagerly to her master’s sexual overtures just now. Opening her mouth when his tongue sought entrance. Following his lead. Giving him no reason to find fault with her training and complain to Glarshnic. 

The loss of her virginity was barely a blip on her radar. Surely not something to be mourned over; her tears had long since dried up. 

Tala was solely focused on pleasing her new master, having buried deep the pain of his invasion. She ran her hands over his arms and back – something he seemed to like – and murmured encouragements. 

_Please. More. So good._

Some nonsensical moaning. 

All things she’d picked up from other slaves over the course of her confinement. Words meant to show her enthusiasm for whatever her new owner might want to do to her, or with her. 

Tala was pleased to see that it had a positive effect; her master was doing a bit of grunting of his own. 

At his slight urging, she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, tilting her pelvis up slightly. She found out why a second later when the new position let him go a bit deeper. Another thing he apparently liked, or she thought he did, because he began to growl. 

When his fangs tore into her throat, the pain it caused sucked the breath right out of her. But she knew better than to put up a fight. 

_Oh god. Oh god. It hurts. It hurts…_

“Master,” she whimpered, unable to endure the pain anymore. 

Something cool splashed against her insides and she felt her master jerk against her a few times then go still, his dead weight collapsing on top of her. Then his fangs left her throat and he was nuzzling where he’d bitten. 

And all she could think was that it was over. That her master appeared to be pleased. 

Tala let sleep reclaim her, comforted by the odd, purr-like rumble emanating from his chest. 


	12. Chapter 12

Alric carefully extracted himself from the girl’s embrace and slipped silently from the bed, pausing only long enough to grab a pair of jeans and pull them on before escaping the bedroom. The source of his… humiliation. 

_Hope you’re bloody satisfied_ , he berated himself. _Because she apparently hadn’t been._

Not that she would ever voice _that_ particular complaint, perfect little slave that she was. 

_Should have waited._

Alric could practically hear his demon snort in contempt. 

_She’s your Consort, not your fucking pet, you idiot._

Master. She’d called him Master and he’d come like a newborn fledge with his sire. Alric snarled and went to kick something out of his way as he paced between the living room and dining room. He stopped, barely in the nick of time; the girl needed to sleep. He’d be damned if he’d wake her because he was too busy arguing with himself to keep the noise down. 

Where was his infamous control when he’d needed it? Because from the moment he’d laid his eyes on Tala, he’d been rash and impulsive. 

With nothing but time on his hands, time he _should_ have spent sleeping, Alric settled onto the couch and stared mindlessly at the television. Bob was ensconced in a suite two floors down by his order, and Alric almost wished he’d not sent the human off on his own – he could have used the distraction. 

The hours ticked by slowly. He watched the room steadily lighten behind the drawn curtains and guessed it to be close to midday. The girl would be waking up soon; she’d adopted his sleeping habits quickly enough. 

He must have succumbed to his exhaustion and fallen asleep at some point because he woke with a start at Tala’s softly whispered, “master?” He sat up abruptly, instantly awake, and glanced towards the open bedroom door. 

She stood there, hair disheveled but looking no less beautiful, garbed in absolutely nothing. Looking anxious at having woken him. 

“What is it?” he asked, his voice gruff. 

“I… that is… can, uh... should I take a shower?” 

Alric sighed at her timid tone and motioned her towards the bathroom. Before she disappeared from sight, he called out, “Are you hungry? I can call room service, have something brought up.” 

The girl turned and nodded but didn’t speak, and he waved her off with instructions to take her time. Listened to the sound of her footsteps as she padded barefoot to the bathroom. 

The water was turned on, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to get up and follow her. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala let out a heartfelt sigh as the heated water rained down on stiff, sore muscles. The walk to the doorway and then to the bathroom had been slow going, but in the grand scheme of things, she didn’t hurt any worse than anything else that she’d been forced to endure. 

She gave a passing thought to her lost virginity, but figured if she had to lose it to someone, some _thing_ , the vampire was hardly the worst demon of those that had been circulating the open arena. Truthfully, there’d been a time that she’d actually enjoyed what they were doing. The things he’d done with his hands, his mouth. And he’d been kind, almost reluctant at first – definitely not the behavior she’d been led to expect from her new owner. Until he’d stopped suddenly and ask her name. Then it had been hard kisses and possessive hands. Even that she’d not minded so much. 

It had been his abrupt penetration that had made her stiffen. After that she couldn’t relax and enjoy herself. She’d had to block the pain from her mind, eagerly drifting off to her place, the one that kept her sane in the face of the reality that was her life, sputtering out grunts and encouragements that had, thankfully, not appeared too contrived. It was the sting of his fangs in her throat that ripped her back to the present, driving home the pain between her legs. Made her whimper for mercy. 

She’d felt a cool splash of something against her insides and heard him growl around the mouthful of flesh in his mouth. A moment later it had been over and she’d sunk gratefully into the unfeeling realm of unconsciousness. 

Her master had said to take her time, and Tala did just that, standing beneath the spray for several minutes before finally rousing herself enough to shampoo her hair and get cleaned up. And even then she lingered once she finished. Until the water began to cool and it, and her rumbling stomach, forced her from her sanctuary. 

There was a robe hanging next to the towel on the rack; it hadn’t been there when she’d stepped inside the shower. 

He’d watched her. Watched her while she showered. 

And he’d not joined her. 

_How did I not sense his presence?_

Tala put it from her mind and quickly dried off, then slipped into the robe that had been provided. It felt weird being clothed, at least beyond her customary thong, and the cloak she wore while in public. 

Her eyes lit briefly on her master’s manservant as he wheeled the food tray towards the dining room table. He must have returned while she’d been in the shower, since she’d not noticed his presence beforehand. Not that she was overly concerned about her safety; Bob had been nothing but courteous to her, though she was unable to convey her appreciation for his kindly demeanor. It had been a habit she’d gotten into, being hyper aware of those around her, all while not appearing to do so. 

Tala had no sooner dropped to her knees by her master’s side than a piece of fruit was dangled in front of her lips. 

She sucked the sweet treat into her mouth and so began the slow, tedious process of eating. A morsel of food. A thorough licking of her master’s fingers. Over and over until she couldn’t take another bite. The glass of water threw her for a loop, however. She stared at it for the longest time as it was held suspended between her master’s thumb and forefinger in front of her face, until the growled, “take it,” had her reaching for it. And even then she hesitated, until the end was tipped up and she was forced to either bring it to her lips or have it splash all over her. 

She drank. 

Awkwardly. 

Afraid that at any moment the glass would be knocked from her hands and she’d be beaten for daring to do something so _normal_. Tala made up for it by guzzling the water down; it nearly spilled out either side of her mouth in her haste to empty the glass and have it taken away. Her hands shook as she finished and made to give it back, vigorously denying her need for more, exhaling quietly when it was taken from her hands without incident. 

It was a long while before her heart rate returned to normal and she relaxed against her master’s leg. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The scene inside the arena was one of organized chaos. Demons were running every which way, trying to escape the murderous rage of the Slayer. 

Alric’s job had been to do a reconnaissance of the place before the clan descended en masse so that he could direct their efforts. What he – or any of the others – hadn’t figured on was that many of the more prominent breeders had already sold off their stock and departed the show. Which left them nothing to target. At least not enough to affect a return to the status quo. 

Though to give themselves credit, this was the first time the clan had been thrown into this particular type of situation. Usually, they battled evil bent on taking over the world. 

It had only been recently that they’d seen such a dramatic rise in human slavery by the demon population. 

Spike wasn’t going to be too happy once he found out about the downward turn this little venture had taken. He’d gone with Angelina and Esme to dispense with the organizers of the trade show and had no idea what a bust their interceding had been. 

Buffy, on the other hand, was in her element, a grin on her face as she took on any demon that stepped into her path. She was decidedly brutal, especially after getting a good look at all the humans present, many of them young children – bound, naked, and lifeless. And god help the demon that was actually dragging one about on a leash. 

Alric hadn’t had the heart to tell her that the younger ones were usually the last to go – as had been explained to him – and that more often than not, they had years of a life like this before being sold off. The young ones that _were_ bought usually became playmates for young demon spawn if they were lucky. Food, a delicatessen for some species, if they weren’t. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Alric could see that Tala was still standing where he’d left her, confident in his ability to see to her safety. Either that, or she placed no value on her life whatsoever. A sobering thought, that. One that didn’t sit well with him at all. If she was surprised by what was going on, she gave no indication, instead staring at the scene before her with a trained pet’s detachment. 

She’d been like that since the glass incident earlier, and no amount of gentle prodding on his part would get her to behave differently. Finally, he’d given up and had her readied for their last day at the trade show. He’d said not a word on the drive over, and the girl’s continued docility had grated on his nerves. 

Alric swung his katana in a wide arc and brought up short the Polgara demon that thought its bone skewers were enough of a weapon to hurt him. It screamed as first one arm and then the second was severed at the elbow, its bellow of pain and rage continuing until its head was lopped abruptly from its neck. Alric didn’t take the time to clean his sword as another foolhardy demon and then another tried to take the Polgara’s place; they, too, met the same fate. 

The crowd slowly began to thin. Enough that he could make out Adam, Marcus, and Derrick dealing with a few of the more aggressive demons trying to incite some sort of retaliation. 

For the most part, the demons were harmless enough, and if they managed to make it through the Slayer, were allowed to leave unscathed. The clan’s fight wasn’t with them, but with the slavers themselves. 

Alric eyes lit briefly on Tala again and noticed several demons sneaking out an unmanned door. His eyes narrowed as he recognized one of them. 

Glarshnic. The demon that had made a slave of his Consort. 

He put his fingers to his lips and let loose an ear-piercing whistle. Clayton, the closest to him, looked up from where he was busily fighting off a trio of Fyarl demons. Alric jerked his head in the direction of the unmanned door, indicated that he was going to take care of the problem. He got a nod from the other vamp and began pushing his way through human and demon alike, pausing only long enough to get Tala to follow after him. 

It took Alric some time to make his way over to the exit and by then Glarshnic, or so he assumed, was making good his escape in a relatively large, unmarked packaging truck, its tires spinning out on the asphalt before finally catching. The truck shot forward, the rear end fishtailing erratically as it sped towards the open gate and freedom. 

Left with no choice, Alric drew the handgun he’d hidden away inside his long coat and fired a barrage of shots at the truck’s tires. His aim was true and both the front and rear tire of the left side of the vehicle gave a loud pop that echoed throughout the parking garage as they were punctured. The truck lurched to the left and toppled over as the driver ended up overcompensating in trying to keep it upright, exposing the underbelly for the kill shot... the gas tank. 

A single shot and the truck exploded into flames. 

The demons frantically racing behind the truck let out a collective cry and retreated back the way they’d come, directly into Alric’s path. 

Tala’s sudden anguish tore through his body, causing him to falter momentarily beneath the onslaught of emotion. His demon, having been suppressed the entire time he’d been fighting, couldn’t be denied in the face of his Consort’s pain. He turned, growling, ready to tear off the head of whatever had harmed her. 

Only there was nothing there. No blood on her – or anywhere around her. No demon. Nothing. Nothing to give him some sort of clue as to what had just happened. 

The girl was just kneeling on the ground as if her legs had suddenly given out, staring with something akin to horror at the slaver’s truck going up in flames. 

She uttered a name – at least, Alric thought it was a name – before she shut down completely, her face devoid of any emotion. 

Alric rushed to her side and tried to get her off the ground and towards safety, coaxing at first, then downright yelling in anger. It was like she hadn’t heard him. Not even flinching when he was reduced to picking her up off the ground and practically dragging her out of harm’s way. 


	13. Chapter 13

Alric ignored the demons that raced by on their way back into the arena, his attention focused solely on his Consort. His hands skimmed impersonally over every inch of her body, confirming what his senses were already telling him: she’d not been physically injured in any way. 

“Tala?” he murmured. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

It was like she hadn’t heard him. Lying impassively in his arms, her gaze was fixed on nothing, not even him. Her features were slack. She was just… listless. 

The sounds of continued fighting drifted to him through the open doorway, but things seemed well in hand. In another few minutes, he knew the Clan would make good its escape, its primary objective seen to. He debated all of two seconds on rejoining the fray before deciding against it. 

His Consort needed him right now. 

Not questioning his instinct to see to her welfare, Alric pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bob. 

“Meet me in the alley. I’ll be there in two minutes.” 

He snapped the phone closed after his employee’s firm “yes, sir.” For once not taking umbrage at the use of the formal moniker. 

Alric lifted the girl in his arms and stood. The walk was a relatively short one in terms of distance, but it felt like forever to him. His Consort’s anguish was a physical thing, a whip tearing off a piece of his flesh with every step he took. Her body a dead weight in his arms. 

Thankfully, Bob asked no questions when he showed up in the alley carrying the girl. He liked that about the man, how he instinctively knew when to hold his tongue. The drive back to the hotel was quiet; his repeated attempts to get Tala to acknowledge his presence produced no results. 

“Alric?” 

Alric lifted his head to stare at the man looking at him in the rearview mirror. As if sensing his attention he continued. “I’m going to park around back and open the fire exit door that leads directly into the stairwell. Give me about ten minutes to get the alarm disconnected.” 

“Alright.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Where _are_ you?” Adam’s voice barked over the line. 

Alric wasn’t ready to talk with anyone about Tala. He was feeling decidedly territorial just then, his demon in an uproar over his Consort’s behavior. For the last few hours, she’d refused food and drink. No, it wasn’t that she’d refused, she’d done nothing. Absolutely nothing. No yea or nay, no flicker across her features that she’d even heard him. 

It was enough for him to pull out his hair in frustration. 

Left with no choice, he’d stripped her of jewelry and the tiny thong she wore and put her to bed. Hoping that when she awoke she would be more willing to talk. To do _something._

“Alric?” Adam’s voice cut into his thoughts; he sounded less than pleased – which meant that Spike or Buffy, or both of them, were too. And for the first time since being turned, he lied. 

“Recognized one of the slavers. One of the big ones. I went after him.” 

“Okay, I get that. But why didn’t you come home afterwards? Buffy was fit to be tied when you didn’t show up.” 

Ah, so it was Buffy. Easier – but not by much – to lie to the girl and not his sire. 

“The hotel room was closer. I’m gonna sleep here for the day. I’ll be at Jocelyn’s tomorrow night.” 

There was a long pause and then, “Are you alright, Alric?” Alric could hear the concern in the other vamp’s voice. 

“Yes. Why do you ask?” 

“I don’t know. You seem… preoccupied…” 

“I’m fine. Just tired. That place… Adam, we’re demons, but we’ve never… I’ve never…” 

“We were fortunate—” 

Alric snorted. “Yes, fortunate.” His thoughts immediately returned to his Consort. Had she been fortunate to have him there? 

Yes, his demon growled. She would belong to someone else if not for his interference. A thought that didn’t sit well with him in the least. The girl was his. 

“I’m going after them, Adam. All of them.” 

“I don’t think—” 

“You didn’t see. They were… _Christ_ , Adam. They were like cattle in there. Half of them no more than children. I’m going after them. If I don’t…” 

He couldn’t voice the thought. He’d make his sire see. The trade shows would pop up again. They probably already were; they just hadn’t reached the Clan’s radar yet. 

That it gave him an excuse to be away from his family for a while didn’t even enter into his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to introduce Tala to the others yet. Maybe he knew, deep down, that there was more to the girl than just being some demon’s pet. He’d get her well first, teach her how to be a human again. 

Buffy had done it – given Angelina a time to heal, to become her own person again. Given her back her pride after being reduced to whoring and serving food and drink in some seaside tavern just to get by. 

He could do no less. The girl _would_ get better; he’d see to it. 

Alric told Adam he’d see him tomorrow night then hung up. Bob was sitting on the living room couch watching football and he joined him there. He’d been hovering over the girl for the last hour with no sign of change exhibited, and he needed a break before trying again. 

If not, he didn’t know what his demon would do. 

So he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Tried to look interested in the men in two differently colored shirts kicking the ball around. He’d not ever been that interested in sports, even after his sire had gone on for a bit about Manchester United. Spike’s retelling hadn’t made much sense at the time, especially given that soccer – or _football_ , as he’d vehemently called it – had yet to be invented. Then again, it wasn’t like he spent much time in recent years watching television in the first place, preferring instead to train or play a hand or two of cards for enjoyment. 

“I’ll come with you if you like,” Bob said after some time had passed. “I can keep an eye on the girl while you do your thing.” 

Alric grunted, not surprised the man had listened in on his conversation. He’d been doing remarkably well at picking up their “speak.” Then again, the man was well traveled and knew several languages to boot. Still, he wasn’t convinced that he should take the man along. 

Then Bob pulled out his trump card. 

“If I’m with you, it’s not like Spike would be able to ask me questions, now would he?” 

Alric frowned, his brows drawing together. He thought for a minute, then turned and stared at the human. 

“Why would you want to come with me?” 

Bob’s face grew just as hard as the vampires. “Because I agree with you. They need to pay. Those… animals. It’s not right. Humans are—” he cut himself off before he could get worked up. He took a deep breath then added, “Besides, you’re gonna need someone to look after the girl. She seems comfortable enough with me around.” 

“Alright then.” Alric sat there for a time as a plan slowly began to take shape. He’d need someplace safe for Bob and Tala to stay while he was at Jocelyn’s. Someplace close to Chinatown. He had a Chinaman to track down, one that owed him a debt. 

And he was damn sure going to collect. 

“Come on,” he announced abruptly, rising to his feet. 

“Where are we going?” 

Alric grabbed his katana and coat and put them on as he headed for the door. “Gotta find us some new digs. How much petty cash do we have?” 

“Almost ten thou…” 

“Good. That’ll hold us for a few days until I can get us some more.” 

Bob’s eyebrows rose at that remark, but he didn’t comment. There had to be a reason Alric didn’t want the others tracking his whereabouts, and it probably had a lot to do with the girl resting in the bedroom. He checked his weapon, grabbed his coat and the cash from one of the drawers, and followed the vamp out the door. 

The place they chose was a rundown apartment just outside of Chinatown. They paid for a month in cash, which had the landlord – a peaceable enough demon – passing over the key without any paperwork being filled out. The lift wasn’t working, surprising neither Alric nor Bob, so they took the stairs up to the fourth floor. The two went over every inch of the furnished two-bedroom apartment, noting weaknesses of the layout and determining other avenues of escape besides the front door. It paid to be cautious. 

“What are you going to need?” To keep himself and his Consort safe while he was gone, Alric didn’t add. 

“Nothing a hardware store won’t supply,” Bob replied. “I think low-tech surveillance is more than sufficient to see the place secured. Might want to slip the landlord a few extra bills…” 

Alric nodded, and the two left not long afterwards. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

After they broke into a hardware store and grabbed the items Bob needed, Alric figured that they may as well move over to the new place now. He would feel more comfortable leaving the two alone if he knew things were set up before he left. 

Packing was accomplished with relative ease; they’d not brought a lot of belongings with them. When Alric came across the lavish jewelry he’d purchased for Tala to wear, he debated throwing it all away. He was about to, then stopped, hand poised over the garbage bin. The pieces were exquisite, and he could easily have them fashioned into something more proper at a later date. So instead of throwing them in the trash, he folded them up in one of his shirts and stuffed it into his case. 

His Consort’s lack of clothing became readily apparent, and he made a mental note to have Bob go out and pick up a few things once the shops opened. He just prayed the girl didn’t baulk about wearing them. 

“Ready?” Bob called from the bedroom door. 

Alric looked away from Tala and nodded at Bob. 

“I’ll just take these down and then drive around back again,” he told the vampire as he walked in the room and grabbed the two suitcases. “The door’s alarm should still be disconnected. Just give me a few minutes to get into place before you head down.” 

“Okay.” 

Bob left, and Alric sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his Consort. She was sleeping finally, but even so, he could still feel her anguish. It angered him, his inability to ease her pain. It angered him more that he didn’t know the source of it. 

He couldn’t fix it if he didn’t know the cause. 

Sighing, he sifted his fingers through her hair. The silvery strands were unnatural and he wondered what color her hair would be when the dye was finally washed away. He was guessing the same dark color of her brows. 

Several minutes passed as he silently willed his Consort’s secrets to reveal themselves. His eyes bled to yellow, his demon desperate to get inside her head, if only to extract some small clue as to the reason behind her pain. His phone rang; the noise actually startled him because he’d been staring so intently at the girl. 

He recognized the number on the screen and flipped the phone open. 

“I’m on my way.” 

Bob didn’t get a chance to reply to the terse comment. The line disconnected before he could say anything. A few minutes later, the stairwell door opened and Alric appeared carrying the girl wrapped snuggly in one of the bedsheets. He got out of the car and opened the door to the back seat, closing it firmly once Alric was inside and had the girl somewhat settled on his lap. 

Since the car they were driving would stick out like a sore thumb in the area they were moving to, Bob dropped Alric and the girl off, idling at the curb only long enough to run their cases upstairs while Alric got out of the car. 

“I’ll catch a cab back,” Bob told him as he climbed behind the driver’s seat. “I shouldn’t be gone more than thirty minutes tops.” 

Alric nodded and disappeared inside the rundown hotel as Bob drove off. He took the stairs two and three at a time to get the girl safe behind closed doors. Inside the apartment, he chose the smaller of the two bedrooms since its single window faced towards the west and he wouldn’t get the early morning sun. Just to be sure, he tacked an extra thick blanket over the window after getting Tala settled beneath the covers. 

When Bob got back, the two worked quickly and methodically to make the place secure. It was nearly four in the morning by the time they finished, and Alric sent Bob off to bed with the instructions that once he awoke, he was to hit the streets and find some clothes for the girl. 

“I’ve left a sheet of paper with her sizes on the table. See that she gets everything, enough for a few weeks at least.” 

Bob mentally shuddered at the idea of shopping for women’s clothes but complied readily enough. He lifted his hand in a half-assed wave goodnight and headed towards his bedroom. The door gave a muted click as it shut, leaving Alric alone with his thoughts. 

The sun was just starting to rise when Alric sought his own bed. He climbed between the sheets and curled around Tala after dispensing with his clothes. She didn’t turn over and cuddle up against his chest, but she didn’t object to him wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him either. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, vowing that when he returned from seeing his sire, he’d fix whatever it was that had apparently broken his girl. 


	14. Chapter 14

Every mile farther away from Tala he got, the crankier his demon became; it mattered not that he was on his way to see his family. By the time he reached Jocelyn’s estate and was ushered through the gates, it was all Alric could do to keep his demon submerged. 

He abandoned the car out front of the main entrance for someone to park and loped up the steps; the door opened just as he made to let himself in. A brief smile lit his face as he thought about the staff and their propensity for anticipating the needs of their employers. 

The blood bond called to him as soon as he stepped inside and he headed off towards the study before the butler could direct him towards the others. He entered the room and the discussion being had came to an abrupt halt. 

Buffy ignored the subtle signs Alric was giving off that screamed “stay back” and rushed over to give him a bone-crushing hug in welcome. “I was worried…” she whispered in his ear, her tone just sharp enough to hint at motherly concern. 

Alric barely managed to bite back a retort and reluctantly returned the impromptu embrace. “I’m fine,” he replied abruptly. It wasn’t the Slayer’s fault his demon was on edge and there was no point in taking out his bad mood on her. 

“Alric…” 

Alric lifted his head from Buffy’s shoulders and met his sire’s assessing gaze; he prayed he didn’t flinch beneath the intense scrutiny. 

“Spike was just telling us of his dealings with the Triad,” Buffy murmured. She crinkled her nose, indicating the gory details he was painting for the benefit of the others. Alric couldn’t help but smile – genuinely this time; for all her skill with dispensing with the various lowlifes of the world, actually reliving the tale had never been one of her high points. 

He allowed himself to be led over to where the group was stretched out on the various chairs and couches arranged about the study, taking a vacant seat on a couch next to Clayton as the Slayer resumed her place by Spike. The other vampire quirked his brow at him in silent question, but Alric just shook his head and listened as his sire began speaking once more – explaining how he’d left the mutilated bodies of the three Triad members as a warning to anyone that dared attempt to facilitate another demon gathering of that nature. 

Discussion soon turned to the various breeders. Alric took the floor, explaining that many of the owners of the larger “farms” had already left by the time they’d gotten there. He went on to explain that there were several breeders right here in Europe, a few of whom specialized in children. 

Then he dropped his bombshell. 

“There’s more out there, though. I’ve a lead on a few breeders based out of Asia, and I’m going after them. Alone.” 

Alric stood and left the room as all hell broke loose behind him. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike found his childe in one of the bedrooms in an unused wing of the estate. 

Alric paused mid-kata as his sire stood in the doorway, rose to his full height, and sheathed his sword. He forced himself not to fidget as Spike just stood there saying nothing. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he lowered his head and looked away. 

“Don’t try to stop me,” he whispered quietly. “Please, Sire…” 

“Alric…” Spike began. He could see his childe’s distress, his agitation. And he almost made him explain. Almost. Instead, he sighed. Gave what passed for his permission. “Alright.” 

He frowned at the hopeful – and extremely relieved – look upon Alric’s face. There was something his childe wasn’t telling him. 

“Thank you, Sire,” Alric replied sincerely. Grateful that he would be parting on good terms with his sire – if not the others. 

“Should bloody well thank me,” he muttered. “I’m gonna have to put up with the Slayer’s whining until you return.” 

Alric nodded and wisely held his tongue. 

“When will you leave?” 

“Tonight. I’ve a Chinaman to track down who owes me his life. And if I wait too long, the trail will grow cold.” Alric lowered his eyes and waited for Spike to tell him no, that there was time yet for him to leave, hell, even flat out change his mind and demand he stay with him and the others. 

The understanding in his sire’s eyes when he stepped close and forced his head up nearly made him cave. Confess all about his Consort and his reasons behind what he was doing. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. 

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk, Alric,” Spike told him quietly, his thumb stroking lightly against his childe’s cheek. Then he pulled Alric close and invited him to drink. 

Neither said a word as Alric fed from Spike’s neck. Alric reveled in the intimate moment he shared with his sire, knowing that it would be weeks, perhaps months, before it happened again. Yet at the same time, his demon was clamoring to return to his Consort. Was desperate to, in fact. It mattered not that Bob was looking after the girl. She was his responsibility. His to care for, provide for. His to protect. 

He wished he could talk to Spike about things. Wondered how his sire balanced the needs of family with that of his Consort. And whose took precedence. 

Finally he pulled away and tenderly laved at the marks he’d made. 

“Be safe, childe,” Spike murmured, his fingers tracing along Alric’s ridged brows in a show of affection. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Alric alone with his thoughts. 

Spike’s own thoughts were troubled as he returned to the others. Something about Alric’s behavior wasn’t sitting well with him. Something that was staring him in the face, if he’d but open his eyes and see. 

No one said a word as he walked back into the study alone, though looks were bandied back and forth between a few of them. Most notably from the Slayer. He shared his own look with Adam – specifically that he was to see that their youngest was watched over, discreetly, of course. 

Adam nodded, indicating that it would be done. 

Rather than allowing the others to dwell on Alric’s rather glaring absence, Spike got them all involved in locating and coming up with a plan to dispense with the larger human breeding farms located in Europe. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric paused at the gate and glanced back in the rearview mirror. The light in the study was on, and if he squinted hard enough, he was sure that someone was standing at the window, watching his departure. 

He wondered if Renee was this conflicted when she went off on her own. And if so, he had a much better appreciation for what she had been going through at the time. 

Already he could feel the ache this separation was causing and he was half tempted to turn around and go back. Only the thought of his Consort, and her condition, made him put the car in gear and drive off. He wanted Tala standing proudly by his side as he introduced her to his family. If it took killing every last breeder on the planet and presenting their severed heads for her pleasure, then that was what he’d do. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric woke before Tala and he took a moment to watch her while she slept. She’d whimpered slightly when he’d slid into bed beside her and pulled her back against his chest. The soft rumbling purr had come out of nowhere, and though he marveled that he could emit such a sound, he was delighted when Tala settled back into sleep – the constant anguish he’d felt since yesterday subsiding somewhat. Even now, she appeared untroubled and he just prayed she remained that way upon waking. 

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants. There was a bit of rustling going on in the outer room as bags were hauled in through the front door and dumped summarily on the table. He grinned slightly, imagining Bob’s pique at having to shop. 

He walked out of his bedroom in time to see Bob step back inside the apartment, arms laden with a second load of bags. 

“She better wear this stuff, Alric,” Bob grumbled under his breath as he dumped his second handful on the couch. “I’m not returning it. Once was enough, thank you very much. I swear, the shops are insane, what with it getting close to Christmas and all.” Finally, relieved of his burden, he collapsed in one of the chairs. “Next time you do the shopping.” 

Alric wisely held his tongue and started going through the packages, his critical eye taking note of the fine quality of the shirts, pants, shoes, and other things that soon covered every available surface in the living room. Bob also made sure to get rugged outerwear, perfect for winters in the Far East. 

“Did you get something for yourself?” 

Bob nodded. “Just a couple of things to supplement what I already had.” 

“Good. I’m going out tonight. I’ll pick up a few things myself on the card. Tomorrow morning I’ll hit the bank, make a withdrawal, then we’re out of here.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Adam found Spike in the study thumbing through the books Jocelyn’s family had managed to acquire from the Watcher’s Council over the years. Though the Clan had been through a half dozen already, none of the references to a vampire named Renee had to do with their own Renee. 

Spike looked up from his book as Adam approached. 

“What is it?” he asked; his body tensed at seeing his childe’s expression. 

“He’s gone.” 

Spike didn’t ask who. “How?” 

“He made a sizable withdrawal from one of our banks in London—”

“How sizeable?” 

“Half a mil.” 

“Fuck.” 

“It’s my fault. I didn’t see… I didn’t think…” 

“No. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m assuming he’s gone to ground, severed all communications?” 

Adam nodded. Alric was well aware of the clan’s capabilities and was smart enough to get around them. On a whim, he’d made several calls to Alric’s secure mobile phone and they’d all gone straight to voicemail, which meant his phone was off, or destroyed. He’d hacked into the system, and was relieved to find a signal – the phone still worked – and he tracked it through the GPS. 

“The phone signal is just outside Chinatown. Building is owned by a N’agrom demon. Peaceable enough.” 

Spike stood and started for the door. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find a clue as to where he’s gone. Asia was probably a smokescreen.” 

~*~*~*~*~

“Don’t go…” 

Joyce looked in the mirror, saw Giles get up off the bed and walk towards her. She blushed, but was helpless to look away as he walked towards her unmindful of his nudity. Over the last week, there hadn’t been one inch of his body that she’d not become intimately familiar with. Still, it was a bit disconcerting, given that she was fully dressed. 

Strong arms slid around her waist and drew her back against his chest. She sighed wistfully and let her head fall back against his shoulder; her eyes closed and she basked in the feelings of safety, comfort – love – that Rupert could engender, just by holding her. 

“Rupert…” she murmured after some time, reluctant to see an end to her all-too-brief holiday. But it was time for her to get back to work, so to speak. She had artwork and artists to discover, and as much as she enjoyed Rupert’s company, _really_ enjoyed his company, she had a business to run. 

Giles could feel Joyce slipping away. And he panicked. 

“Move in with me,” he announced abruptly, shocking even himself. 

Joyce’s eyes flew open and locked with Giles’ in the mirror. 

“Wha—?” 

“Move in with me,” he repeated, this time with a little less desperation and a lot more conviction. 

“Rupert… I…” She pulled away and turned around to face him. “I mean…” 

“I… I… care about you…” he admitted, cutting off what was surely to be a negative answer. He glanced at his feet for a moment, scared to look in her eyes and see rejection staring him in the face. 

“But what about your job…? The Council? I don’t think—” Joyce was at a loss. Of all the things to come out of his mouth, his proposition was the least likely. No matter what Angelina had hinted at. 

“Bugger the Council,” he whispered heatedly, for once forgetting to adhere to his rigid upbringing – stiff upper lip and all that. “I do not recall where it is written that I had to inform them of my personal affairs. Whom I see has no relevance on how I perform my duties. And if Quentin has a problem with that… well… he can bloody well sod off for all I care.” 

Joyce’s lips twitched. “Sod off?” 

“Er… um… yeah?” 

“Oh, Rupert!” She giggled then. “I… you… ‘bugger the Council!’” Suddenly she was laughing. Laughing so hard tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. She snorted, which sent her off on another round. Her hands gripped the bureau behind her to keep her upright. “I think… that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse aloud. I… I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“I apologize for being crass, but I—” 

“Crass? Oh god, Rupert… stop…” 

“I hardly see this as being funny,” he frowned. He was damn near laying his heart on the line and the woman was mocking his speech? 

Joyce bit her lip and tried to appear contrite. Which was especially difficult given Rupert’s disgruntled expression. “I’m sorry…” she began, then took a few deep breaths before continuing. “It’s just… you have a… a way with words.” She sobered, stared at him intently. “Do you think this could work? You. Me. Us,” she asked him honestly. 

“Yes,” Giles responded, equally candid. “Yes, I do.” He moved forward, wrapped his arms around her back and held her loosely in front of him. 

Joyce looked up at Giles, saw the hesitation and hope in his eyes. 

Then took a chance. 

“Alright.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Giles fingered the small white card in his hand, staring down at the number he’d memorized, having looked at it often enough. 

The past two weeks had been idyllic, his time spent with Joyce, some of the best days of his life. They’d done a good bit of talking. He’d told her of his ill-spent youth, leaving nothing out – including his Ripper days and subsequent fall from grace in his father’s eyes. Joyce had taken it all in, her expressive eyes devoid of the censure he’d figured was his due. She, in turn, had talked about her time in Los Angeles, how she and Hank had been unable to deal with Buffy’s behavior and how they’d had her committed for a time. It was something she’d been against, and it had been the proverbial straw that had ended their marriage. Joyce had filed for divorce, pulled Buffy from the psychiatric ward, and moved to Sunnydale. 

Giles had held Joyce while she cried, lamenting her poor mothering skills, her naivety of her daughter’s calling, how she’d despaired at Buffy ever amounting to anything, especially given Mr. Snyder’s rather long and descriptive accounting of Buffy’s suspect behavior. He’d soothed her distress, stressing that Buffy’s situation was unique. That she’d been the exception to the rule with regards to slayers. 

“Most girls… _potentials_ , they’re called… most of them are taken from their homes at a young age for just this reason,” he’d told her. His hope was to convince her that it had been the Council’s shortcomings and not her own as a parent. 

“But, Rupert! That’s barbaric.” 

“Families don’t understand. They can’t cope with the lives their daughters lead. Let alone that monsters are real and not a figment of one’s imagination,” he’d replied, though secretly, he’d been inclined to agree. 

Buffy, with her family, her friends, had been a much better slayer than those that had come before her. She’d defied policy and prophecy, and done away with the Master, effectively preventing his return. True, her methods had been somewhat unorthodox, but she’d gotten the job done, and had continued to do so. 

They’d eventually moved on to other things, specifically their plans for the future. His position with the Council and whether he wanted to continue working there had been mulled over – he was leaning more towards not, given Travers’ disapproval to his budding romance with Joyce. He’d ignored the pointed comments and reproachful looks from the man thus far, making sure that the teachings he imparted to the latest up and coming watchers was within the Council’s doctrine, leaving no room for the Head Councilman to complain about his performance. 

It was only a temporary solution. At some point he was going to have to take a stand. Either Travers was going to have to accept that Joyce was in his life, and would in all likelihood remain thus, or Giles was going to have to submit his formal letter of resignation. 

Which was why he could no longer put off making the call. 

Joyce was fast asleep in the bedroom and Giles sighed and palmed the receiver, dialing the necessary digits to place the transatlantic call. 

It was answered on the second ring, the terse hello startling him, so that he stammered out his own awkward greeting. 

“Rupert, old chap! Was wondering if you’d forgotten about me. How are things back in the motherland? I hear you’re making waves at Headquarters… Good on you!” 

Giles didn’t bother to ask how Doyle knew about him and Joyce, putting it down to the half-breed’s inside connections with the Powers. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called before now. I’ve been… uh... rather busy. What was it you needed from me?” 

“I need a book. And your Council seems to have the only copy I can get my hands on.” 

Doyle rattled off the name and Giles’ eyes went wide. The book he’d named – there was a reason a copy was hard to come by. It was a spell book, and a powerful one at that. 

“Why— that is… What do you need it for?” 

“Need a binding spell,” Doyle told him without preamble. “Gonna bind Angel’s soul. For good this time.” 

Giles mouth worked, but nothing came out for several minutes. Then, “Are you saying that Angel is in danger of losing his soul?” 

Doyle chuckled. 

“Not unless he becomes freakishly happy in the near future, which I don’t really foresee happening. I think he’s still smarting about Buffy and Spike being together. Pays to be cautious, though. Angel’s soul _is_ a curse. A moment’s happiness, true happiness, and we’ve got Angelus back in the fold. I don’t have to say what would happen then. I’m sure you’re well aware of that bastard’s proclivities for mayhem.” 

“Erm… quite!” 

“So… binding spell. And a damn good one, is what I’m thinking.” 

Giles cleared his throat. 

“I’ll begin my search in the morning. The Council’s libraries are rather extensive and the book you want will most likely be warded to the less trained eye.” 

“Something you’re not, eh, Ripper?” Doyle interjected, chuckling. 

“Barring any unforeseeable circumstances,” Giles went on as if he’d not heard, “I should have what you need at week’s end. Is that soon enough?” 

“Don’t see why not.” 

“Very well. I’ll ring you when I’ve found it.” He was about to hang up when another thought hit him. “Do you… uh… have someone? To… uh… perform the spell.” 

“Uh huh… you,” Doyle replied. Grinning, because he could picture the look on the watcher’s face. Shock. Anger at his presumptuousness. 

Giles sighed, long and loud and removed his glasses. He dropped them on his desk before pinching the bridge of his nose. Neither said a word and the international connection crackled once or twice in the silence. 

“Very well. The offices close at the end of the week. I suppose I can squeeze in a trip stateside during the holiday.” 

“May be for the best, you coming here,” Doyle agreed. “Don’t fancy bringing Angel to London. Not with Spike still in the vicinity.” 

“You know about Spike?” 

“’course I do. He’s my mate. We do keep in touch, if somewhat infrequently. He’s really looking forward to the holiday celebration the Slayer’s got planned.” 

From the tone of his voice, Giles knew the man was lying, and he chuckled momentarily. “Told you about that, did he?” 

“Uh huh. Just takin’ the piss, though. There’s not much Spike wouldn’t do for that wife of his, and a Christmas get-together falls on the lower end of his ‘annoyance’ spectrum, even if both you and Joyce are gonna be there.” 

Giles could well relate. If it were not for Joyce, he would have spent a quiet evening at home. Instead, he’d been sent a formal invitation by the Countess of Hastings – written in her own hand, no less – requesting Joyce’s, and by extension, his presence at her country estate, making mention of hers and Joyce’s introduction at the art gallery and her desire to discuss a lucrative business venture between the two. He didn’t even bother to question how Spike and Buffy had known where he lived. Still, he’d recognized the proposal as the veiled attempt it was: a means to get Buffy and her mother together. 

“We leave for the Countess’ estate at the end of the week and will be there through Christmas. With any luck, I’ll find what I need before then, and fly out… probably the 27th or 28th.” 

“Alright. Call me when you land in LAX and I’ll come get you. I’m only fifteen minutes away from the airport. Spell shouldn’t take more than a day to prepare. You should be back in England before the new year.” 

Giles rung off after assuring Doyle that he would. He replaced his glasses, stood, and made his way out of his office, pausing only long enough to flick the light switch off on the way out the door. 

Joyce slept on as he stripped out of his clothes and slid between the sheets next to her. She rolled over, having subconsciously sensed his presence in the bed, and burrowed into his side. It felt good having someone to hold, someone that cared – who he cared for in return. His arms slid about her automatically; Joyce’s breathy sigh of contentment brought a smile to his face. 

With so much occupying his mind – locating the spell book for Doyle, securing Angel’s soul, spending the Christmas holiday with Spike and his clan, and his tenuous position within the Council – it was a while before he succumbed to his exhaustion and slept. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Jocelyn’s study was a welcome respite from the merrymaking going on in another wing of the estate, and Spike settled behind the desk to read the latest report from Adam. For the past three weeks, the two had done everything they could think of in order to track down Alric. 

All to no avail. 

It was like his youngest had disappeared off the face of the planet. Alric didn’t want to be found, and was doing his damnedest to keep it that way. Even switching their resources from tracking Alric to tracking Bob wasn’t helping. If he weren’t so pleased with the human’s loyalty towards one of his own, he would have been pissed that the man had gone off without so much as a “by your leave” from him. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have words with Bob once his childe finally resurfaced. Put the fear of his place as Sire in the man. 

But it wasn’t the human’s behavior that had Spike in an uproar. Or even his childe’s sudden desire to go on walkabout. No, it was the N’agrom demon’s comment about his childe’s consort that drew him up short. Had him pinning the much larger demon against the wall and demanding he repeat himself. The demon had caved beneath his stare, explaining how he’d caught a glimpse of the girl when the vampire and human had moved their things into the apartment. 

“Could smell him on her. And not just the claim,” he’d stammered. 

Spike had let the demon drop and demanded the key to the apartment. Thankfully, he’d sent Adam on to the hotel to glean anything from there, leaving him to search the rundown apartment building, so he was none the wiser. He’d opened the door and been assaulted by the scent of childe and human – both the girl and Bob. A thorough search of the apartment had turned up nothing, save the single sheet of paper left on the kitchen counter listing several demon breeders operating in and around England. Growling and swearing, he’d snatched it up and stormed from the room only just remembering to lock up the place behind him. 

In the lobby, Spike had expressed his desire that the room remain untouched, that he’d be keeping his eye on the place and would know if anything was tampered with. The demon had nodded his assurances that it would be as he commanded – he’d see to it personally. Spike had left a business card through one of his front companies for the N’agrom to get word to him if anything out of the ordinary were to occur. 

Then he’d left. 

And for the past week, he’d called himself all kinds of fools for not recognizing the signs in Alric. Though to give himself credit, he’d claimed the Slayer so long ago, and so much had happened in the interim, that he couldn’t distinctly remember his own possessive behavior. Plus, there’d been the fact that he’d not been thrilled with the prospect of being tied to Buffy for the rest of his unlife and had resisted all attempts of his demon to take what was rightfully his. 

The door opened and Spike knew without looking that it was Buffy. He put his cup down and opened his arms. 

She flew forward, much like when she’d been his Elizabeth, the pleats of her plaid threatening to come undone in her haste to reach him. It had been her idea for the group to don their plaids for tonight’s festivities, and though his childer had rolled their eyes, Spike had seen the sheen in a few of them as his wife had gone on about family and tradition. 

“I miss him,” Buffy murmured into his chest. “It’s not the same, him not being here.” 

“No, it’s not,” Spike agreed. He nuzzled into her hair and smiled when she shifted on his lap. “But, it’s not like he’s gone for good. Just wrapping up a few loose ends, is all.” 

He’d not told Buffy of his failed attempts to track Alric’s movements, not wanting to worry her needlessly. No one, save Adam, knew that he’d even tried. For now, he let them all think that Alric was off in Asia, doing what he said he was doing – taking out some of the larger slave traders’ establishments. 

Spike sensed the Slayer hesitate, like she wanted to say more, perhaps question him further, and figured he’d head her off at the pass. He tilted her head up and captured her lips, kissing her until she was breathless and panting. 

“Prolly should get back to the party, eh, love?” 

Buffy blushed and scrambled out of Spike’s lap and set her plaid to rights. Thoughts of straddling the vampire’s lap, lifting her skirts and his plaid for a quickie, she banished from her mind. Knowing that it would be just her luck that her mother would come searching for her and walk in on the two of them. 

Spike’s nostrils flared at the sudden burst of pheromones coming from the Slayer, and witnessed the telltale blush staining her cheeks. 

“Mmmm… Slayer’s got a dirty mind. Fancy a bit of a shag, pet?” 

“No,” she denied, but her body was saying, yes please, push me up against the wall and have your wicked way with me. 

Luckily for her, Spike was adept at reading her body and ignoring the words that came out of her mouth. With a flick of his wrist, her plaid fell away, leaving her bare from the waist down. 

It ended up being the floor behind the desk instead of the wall, not that she was complaining. She parted her legs and Spike settled between them. Her hands grasped the bottom edge of his kilt and lifted it out of the way. Felt the head of his cock brush against her pussy. 

“Please, Spike,” she begged, unwilling to put up with any of his tortuous delaying tactics. 

Spike swallowed the Slayer’s moan as he slid home. Perfect. So bloody perfect, he couldn’t help but think. And he kissed her, pouring everything he had, everything he was into it. Showing her without words, what she meant to him. Both the man and the demon. 

Neither heard the footsteps draw closer and pause outside the door. Nor did they hear the male chuckle – Marcus – as he turned and walked away, back to the others. 

The words came eventually. Promises of forever. And mine, mine, mine. Before fangs sank deep and cries of completion filled the study. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Doyle was fixated on reaching Giles’ arrival gate so missed the leggy brunette coming his way until he crashed into her. He caught the girl before she could fall; his eyes widened slightly at the electric jolt he felt go through him. 

“God! Walk much?” Cordelia snapped. “And hands off already! Sheesh.” 

“Sorry, Princess.” 

“Yeah… whatever.” She rolled her eyes and pulled away from the man’s grasp, refusing to be swayed by his charming Irish accent. “Watch where you’re going next time,” she muttered, then stalked off. Her plane was boarding. 

She was already in a bad mood because her flight to Hawaii had been delayed due to a mechanical issue; being bulldozed by the man because he hadn’t been paying attention had been the icing on the cake. If she wasn’t already tired and eager to reach her destination – a week on the sandy beaches of Oahu, courtesy of her father – she would have taken a few extra minutes to give the man what for. 

As it was, she dismissed him from her mind and handed the ticket agent her boarding pass, and at a nod from the woman, marched down the metal gang plate, her wheeled carry-on held firmly in her hand. Service in first class was top notch, and Cordelia had a drink, pillow, and blanket before coach started to board. It had been a long day, and she was asleep before the plane reached its cruising altitude. 

If she dreamed about children being chased by weird-looking demons in what appeared to be one of the downtown streets of Los Angeles, she put it down to her overactive imagination and the influence of the weird goings on in Sunnydale. 


	16. Chapter 16

The spell was relatively simple, although it left Giles feeling rather drained afterwards. They knew it was successful because the moment it was complete, both he and Doyle witnessed the sheer joy on the vampire’s face – undoubtedly a moment of perfect happiness in his estimation. And no evidence of Angelus in sight. 

Doyle laughed then. Which caused the other two to chuckle as well. 

Angel stepped out of the chalked circle and shook Giles’ hand, giving the man his heartfelt thanks. He could still feel his demon banging around inside his head, but he didn’t have the constant struggle anymore. More like it was resigned to its fate, making it so that he could relax his guard a bit, enjoy the things around him now without worrying about the return of his alter ego. 

The three settled in around Doyle’s living room, each nursing their own preferred libation. Giles wasn’t due to leave until the next day and they spent some time discussing their plans – Angel and Doyle fighting the good fight, changes Giles was hoping to make at the Council… hopefully for the better. The subject of Spike, of Buffy, was carefully avoided. After a few drinks had loosened his tongue, Giles spoke of Joyce and their budding relationship, how he planned on marrying her, sooner rather than later, if at all possible. 

_If_ she would have him. 

Congratulations and toasts were made all around. Giles struggled not to blush. The drink helped. Before he knew it, the bottle he’d commandeered was nearly empty. 

Then the clock was chiming the lateness of the hour, nearly three in the morning – midday for the vampire, but long past Giles’ own bedtime. He struggled drunkenly to his feet, weaving precariously for a minute before leaving Doyle and Angel to seek his bed. Tomorrow morning was going to come early. 

But it was a day to surely be brimming with hope, both here in California and in England. He found himself looking forward to it, knowing his life – and his calling – had taken a step in the right direction. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob gave Alric a wide berth as he stepped into their cabin and shut the door. His arms laden with groceries for himself and Tala, he moved into the small kitchen and set about putting the food away. 

A month had gone by, Christmas included, and they were no closer to finding the reason behind Tala’s listlessness. The Chinaman Alric had hunted down had been no help, only able to give him the names of the breeders in and around Europe and Asia and their approximate location, though he did manage to discover Glarshnic’s whereabouts, but then only because of the demon’s reputation. Which was saying something given his rather unorthodox upbringing. 

He and Alric had infiltrated the dead demon’s small compound, and knew in that second that deciding to do away with many of the larger slavers had been the right thing to do. He’d nearly lost his lunch at the atrocities he’d seen. 

Needless to say, there wasn’t a brick left standing, a demon left alive, when they’d finished. Afterwards, they’d left the country far behind, knowing instinctively that the statement they’d made wouldn’t go unnoticed by the Clan, that Spike and the others would find a means of reuniting the humans left behind with their loved ones. 

What had angered Alric was that the destruction of his Consort’s former master’s compound had been met with a blank stare by Tala. If anything, she seemed to slip further into herself. 

Each successive slaver they’d tracked had been met with more of the same, and resulted in the steady decline of Alric’s ability to subdue his demon. To the point where, more often than not, it, and not his human mask was present for all to see. 

On the one hand it freaked Bob out, especially given his boss’ ferocity and abrupt manner. But Tala seemed to take some comfort in the demon’s presence. And it was only when Alric was like that, commanding that she eat with harsh growls, that she did so. It was the only time she responded at all, in fact. 

“It’s been a month, Alric. I think you should let me tap my source at Interpol.” 

“No.” 

“Alric—” 

“I said _no_!” 

Bob sighed and poured himself a drink. They’d been having this argument for the last two weeks, with no relent. While he had complete faith in his friend’s discretion, Alric wasn’t taking any chances. They’d yet to figure out what Tala’s problem was, let alone her identity. Without that, they couldn’t determine how to fix her. 

Even explaining that to the vampire was met with that unnerving amber stare of his. Until he was forced to look away and drop the subject… again. But, enough was enough. It was time for him to take matters into his own hands and damn the consequences. Once he had the information in front of him, it wasn’t like Alric could do anything about it then. 

Alric left right on cue two hours after the sun went down, after first seeing that Tala was tucked into bed. As soon as he was gone, Bob pulled out his secure cell phone and made a call. Obtaining the girl’s fingerprint was met with no more than a dull look from eyes that seemed dead somehow. 

Twenty minutes later, he was no better off than before. Her prints weren’t on file. Anywhere. Which meant she wasn’t a criminal – a plus. A good thing in his book, yet it made things much more difficult for him. Needle in a haystack difficult. 

He wasn’t giving up, however. Had a lead, of sorts. More of a “why didn’t I think of this before?” than anything else. Armed with Tala’s name, he began searching missing children databases on the internet. After scanning those for what seemed like hours with little luck, and worried that he’d be caught red-handed by Alric’s sudden return, he expanded his search to include several large US city newspapers. 

It wasn’t until he threw in the wildcard “Indian” that he got anywhere. 

The write-up was small, no more than a few paragraphs in an obscure tribal newsletter. The story wasn’t about her, specifically, but about her brother, Hakan, an eight-year-old boy that had been abducted from his home one day, not long after his sister, Tala, had graduated from Georgetown University. The author speculated that the girl had gone off to seek a new beginning, leaving behind her brother in the care of their great aunt, lovingly referred to as Nana by family and friends. Nana had been vocal in her disbelief in the general consensus, citing Tala’s love for her only brother – made more so in the wake of their parents’ death – as her reasons for wanting to return home. Her contention was that Tala had been kidnapped, just like Hakan, but nothing had ever come from her protestations to the contrary. With little money, she hadn’t been able to conduct a search in locating the girl either. 

Bob took note of the article details and logged off his computer. He leaned back, a smile on his face. 

Tala Highblood. 

The name sure did fit. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob was packing when Alric came back in. 

“What are you doing?” Alric demanded. 

“Packing. What’s it look like?” 

Probably not the best – or smartest – answer he could give, but he was rather excited, and Alric had been a stick-in-the-mud for far too long. He couldn’t help stating the obvious. 

“I can see that. _Why_ are you packing?” 

“Booked the three of us on a flight to Arizona.” 

Alric held onto his patience, but it was a close call. His nostrils flared as he took a deep calming breath. 

“You wanna tell me what we’re doing going there. And, Bob?” 

“Yeah, boss?” 

“Better make it quick. My patience is at an end.” 

Bob sighed and turned around. Explaining what he’d done would probably land him in a world of shit, but there was little chance that his random search would spark any kind of interest from Spike. Or anyone else for that matter. 

“Look… we’ve taken out how many of these breeding farms? Five? Six? And yet Tala still hasn’t…” His voice trailed off at Alric’s growl. “I ran her fingerprints,” he announced abruptly. 

“You _what_? Have you lost your damn mind?” 

“No. We needed answers and I got them. But relax. The trace didn’t come back with anything. I used the internet and did a search on her name. Actually came back with a hit too…” 

“What?” 

“Her name is Tala Highblood, Alric.” 

_Tala Highblood. Regal._

“She had a brother named Hakan.” 

_Hakan._

“… he was kidnapped.” 

_Brother. She has a brother._

“… going to Whiteriver… hopefully find some answers…” 

Alric shook himself. “What?” 

“Haven’t you been listening to me?” 

“Of course I was.” 

“So we’re going then, right?” 

Alric didn’t answer him, but Bob assumed they were. He watched as the vampire walked off towards his and Tala’s room, for once, his step confident, more like the master vampire he’d come to know the last few years. The door clicked shut and Bob returned to his task – packing their belongings and wiping away any trace of their ever having been there. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

_I should have known. She is my Consort, I should have known._

Alric crept up onto the bed and curled his body around the girl. The soft rumble began automatically – something he’d long since given up trying to understand – and his lips eased into a half smile when her rigid body relaxed in his arms. He nuzzled into her neck and felt a slight shudder go through her body, felt her head dip to the side. 

He tried to resist what she was unconsciously granting him, not wanting to take advantage, but his demon needed some form of connection. And since he wasn’t sleeping with the girl in anything other than the literal sense, this was the only way he could keep himself from taking what was rightfully his and saying to hell with the consequences. That she whimpered “master” once his fangs sunk deep kept him from going further in his need to make her his. 

He cringed every time he heard it. Wanted the word stricken from her vocabulary. Blocking it from his mind, Alric supped at her neck for a few moments then reluctantly pulled away. Already his demon was purring contentedly. He licked lovingly at the fresh marks he’d made – marks that would fade with the sunrise – and leaned back so that he could look at Tala’s face. 

Her eyes were closed and she was panting slightly. Not because he’d hurt her, but because she couldn’t help but be affected by her Claimant, even with the withdrawn state she was in. It was his hope that by doing this, continuing to strengthen their bond through blood, she would return to him. 

The news Bob had given him could only help his cause and found he couldn’t actually fault the man from going against his wishes and doing what he’d done. At some point, he had to trust when his employee said he could do something. He only hoped that trust wasn’t misplaced. 

“Tala?” 

As he lay on his side facing her, he trailed one hand over her face until she finally opened her eyes and looked at him. There was no more recognition than before, but he hoped that by mentioning her brother’s name he’d get some type of reaction. 

He did, but it wasn’t what he expected. He murmured her brother’s name and watched, shocked, as her eyes filled with tears and eventually spilled over onto her face. Her body didn’t move, which made her anguish more apparent in his eyes. The constant dull ache of his Consort that resided somewhere in the vicinity of his unbeating heart became a howling pain of grief and he couldn’t prevent the harsh growl of outrage on her behalf. 

Unable to bear looking at her tears any longer, Alric drew her close and practically lay on top of her and he once more struck up his soothing rumble. It took almost an hour before he noticed her breathing even out and he felt her body relax back into the mattress – a sign that she’d drifted off to sleep. 

Careful not to wake her, he climbed from the bed and began cramming their clothes into the four suitcases tucked away in his room, mindful to leave out a set of clothing for Tala to wear. When that was finished, he started on his weapons, loading them into a crate for easier shipping to the States. Nestled amidst all the paraphernalia was his beloved katana – something he hated being parted with, but given the lack of the Clan’s clout and their much easier means of flitting about the globe, knew was necessary. 

He closed the crate and locked it, hefted it onto his shoulder and left the bedroom. Bob was on his way out the door with two suitcases, one held in either hand. He set the crate near the door and went to retrieve the rest of the stuff from the bedroom. 

Finally, everything was loaded into the car, leaving Alric with the job of dressing his Consort. Ten minutes later, with Tala bundled into a Down coat and rugged snow boots over her warm-weather clothes, Alric carried the girl out of the small cottage that had been their home for the last week. 

Bob held the door open for him, making it easier to climb into the back seat without relinquishing his hold on Tala. Alric settled her beside him as Bob shut the door and hurried around to the driver’s seat. 

It was an hour’s drive to the airport and Alric spent the time silently brooding, one arm wrapped around Tala’s shoulder. 


	17. Chapter 17

In the two months since visiting Tala’s hometown, Alric felt like he’d circled the globe. Twice. 

Armed with a few stolen pictures of Hakan and the scent of the boy firmly embedded in his mind, he’d taken them back to Europe, then eventually to China when he found out the man that owed him his life had returned to his native homeland. Though there’d been no language barrier for Alric to worry over, the fact that he’d been something _other_ – vampire and white – had brought his search grounding to a halt. Weeks were wasted, until Alric had caught a lucky break. Several more weeks had passed before he’d found Po Sing in a tiny village located in a remote area of China that had neither electricity nor cell phone connectivity. 

But, he’d gotten a name, and a demon species – that had given him a starting location. 

It was why he was in Los Angeles and staring up at the building that was home to the souled vampire. 

For days he’d watched Angel’s comings and goings, careful to stay off Doyle’s radar. Alric had followed the vamp a time or two to see what he was getting up to. Apparently, Angel had set up shop and he, along with Doyle, was helping the lost souls of the city, battling human and demon alike to keep safe those too weak to do so themselves. 

A noble feat – more so than the halfhearted attempts Angel had made with the Slayer in Sunnydale. 

Alric glanced at his watch and sighed. He could put it off no longer. If Angel followed his typical routine, he’d be back soon from his nightly prowl. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel stepped out of the lift and knew right away that he wasn’t alone. He walked cautiously into the room, body tense and ready to explode into action… only to freeze in shock, his jaw dropping in amazement upon spying his unwanted guest. 

“Hello, Angel,” Alric greeted the vampire calmly. 

“You!” was the first thing that came out of Angel’s mouth. And then, “Spike… is he—?” 

“I’m not here because of my sire.” 

That brought Angel up short and made him tense in anticipation of attack. 

“And I’m not here to fight either,” Alric added, sensing the other’s unease. “Look. You got anything to drink around here? This may take a while.” 

Angel didn’t relax, not completely anyway, but he did walk over towards the kitchen area and pulled out an unopened single malt from one of the cupboards. For some reason, he felt that whatever the vampire had to tell him called for something with a kick. 

“So…” Angel began once he’d poured them both a drink and sat back down across from his guest. “What—?” 

“Am I doing here?” Alric finished. 

“Uh… yeah.” 

It was a bit unnerving to have the vamp that had swept the floor with his ass sitting so calmly across from him. 

“Believe me… I wouldn’t be here if I had any choice in the matter. But, unfortunately, you’ve established yourself as the demon in charge here in Los Angeles, so it falls to you to act as my intermediary.” 

“Intermediary?” 

“Of sorts. The demons I’m seeking are the type that will only grant an audience to someone of power.” 

“But I don’t have any power. I—” 

“Look, you’ve marked Los Angeles as your own. You get rid of demons that encroach upon your territory. That makes you someone of power… at least with the Marabori.” 

“The Marabori?” 

“Yes. They’re fairly nomadic and keep to themselves, which is probably why you haven’t ever seen or heard of them. But, they’re rather deadly.” _And have an unhealthy interest in children_ , he didn’t add. 

“And they’re here? In Los Angeles?” 

“Yes.” 

“What do you want with them?” 

“I just have a few questions to ask them.” 

“Uh huh…” _And I was turned yesterday_. 

They engaged in a staring contest that seemed to last for several minutes. Angel cocked his brow and waited. And waited. Because this was one battle of wills he was going to win. There was no way he was jumping into something with one of Spike’s childer without knowing the full story. Angel didn’t think Alric would speak, that the vamp would just get up and leave rather than confide in him. So, he was rather surprised, if confused, when he finally did so. 

“I’m looking for a boy.” 

“Come again?” 

“A boy. I’m looking for a boy. He was sold to two Marabori demons at a slaver’s auction in Europe a few months back. I’m trying to find him, and hopefully barter for his release. The trail led here… to Los Angeles. Apparently, the Marabori come together for some type of ritualistic siesta before venturing off to the four corners of the world.” 

“Barter, huh?” Angel asked, zeroing in on what the vampire wanted to do. 

“Yeah. That’s where you come in. To them, I have no power. I’m just a solitary vamp invading their territory. I’d be viewed as nothing but a threat to them.” 

“How is it you know so much about these… what did you call them? Maurudi?” 

“Marabori. The clan has a fairly extensive library of demon species; I’ve researched my fair share of them.” 

Angel sighed. “What do you need me to do?” 

~*~*~*~*~

Angel saw Alric out of his apartment and locked up before returning to his chair and his glass of whisky. He poured himself a healthy refill and swallowed it down in one gulp, not feeling the burn in his throat as he replayed the conversation he’d had with the vampire. 

Something he hadn’t said was bugging Angel. That and the fact that he’d been adamant about not involving Doyle. In fact, he’d been told under no circumstances was he to mention Alric’s presence in Los Angeles. Another glassful, and Angel was trying to figure out how he was going to accomplish that – the half-breed had a sixth sense about things sometimes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric let himself into the motel room and nodded at Bob when he roused himself from the couch. 

“Just me,” he let the other man know. 

Bob nodded once then settled back down on the cushions and was fast asleep in moments. Alric spared him a smile as he locked the door; Bob really did take his duty of seeing to the clan’s safety seriously. When their search for Hakan was at an end, he’d have to find some way to repay Bob for his unswerving loyalty. 

Alric walked through the living room and entered the single bedroom and closed the door behind him. Tala was asleep, snuggled beneath the covers. For once, her heart was beating at a normal rate; she wasn’t being troubled by another nightmare, thankfully. 

He’d debated telling her about Hakan and that he believed the boy hadn’t died in the crash but had instead been sold to a demon, much like she had. Only, he didn’t want to get her hopes up, have her come back to awareness, just to find out that the boy’s owner had killed him. Alric didn’t think he could survive a repeat performance of Tala’s near catatonic state. 

So, for now, he remained quiet on the subject. Instead employing other means to try and bring Tala back to him. As yet, nothing had worked. She still ate food from his hand, still meekly offered up her neck to him, still curled against him when he slid into bed next to her – but that was the extent of her willingness to remain in this world. And that because his demon, the bond he shared with her, demanded it. 

And he had to wonder what would have happened if he’d not claimed her. 

Alric wrapped his arms around Tala, and sure enough, she shifted from her back to her side to burrow against his chest. His soothing purr began without any awareness on his part, now more a reflex action that came from being close to his Consort than anything else. He heard her sigh in her sleep and smiled into her hair, gave her a slight squeeze as she settled next to him. 

_Not much longer_ , he told himself. He’d find Tala’s brother and then she’d come back to him. 

Being indebted to Angel was a small price to pay to have that happen. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Joyce leaned away from the toilet and groped blindly for the washcloth folded over the sink’s edge. Three times in as many days and she could no longer deny what was staring her in the face – she was pregnant. 

She wiped her face off and got slowly to her feet. Winced when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Thankfully Rupert was off seeing to things at his shop, a store that sold both antiquities and rare books. 

The new business had been a result of his being fired from the Watcher’s Council, something to do with Rupert having stolen a one-of-a-kind spell book. Though Rupert had had both the contacts and resources to prevent his being sacked, he’d declined, stating to Joyce – and to Buffy and the others – that Travers’ judgment was a sign for him to move on. To close that particular chapter of his life and start fresh. Then in front of Spike, Buffy, and the rest of the group that had been present at the Countess’ estate, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed. 

Joyce still got teary-eyed just thinking about it. 

She’d given him an emphatic yes, of course, pleased to see that Buffy had been nodding right along with her. There’d been some good-natured heckling from Spike that Rupert had taken in stride. 

Congratulations had turned into an impromptu celebratory party that had lasted until the wee hours of the morning. 

Two weeks later, she’d become Mrs. Rupert Giles. In the month following her marriage, she’d flown back to California to settle her affairs there – selling the gallery to her long-time assistant, going through her storage and packing up the things she wanted to keep and shipping them to her new home, leaving the rest to charity, and paying her ex-husband one last visit to inform him that he no longer needed to send her an alimony check. She’d returned to England free from her past and settled into domestic bliss with her new husband. 

After a leisurely shower, Joyce made an appointment with her doctor to confirm her self-diagnosis. Given her age, she wanted to take extra care with her pregnancy. They had a slot available for later that day, and Joyce confirmed the time and hung up. 

Now she just needed to let the dad-to-be know. She only hoped he was as happy as she was. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“A sprog, huh?” Spike smirked. 

Giles very nearly spat out his whisky. “Bloody hell, Spike. A little respect, if you will. That’s my future child you’re bad-mouthing.” 

Spike saluted the former watcher with his glass and took a sip of his own drink to hide his smile. The last few months had seen a budding friendship between the two, especially since Giles and Joyce had been frequent visitors to Jocelyn’s estate. 

He and Giles were now alone in the study, having barely escaped being sucked into the women’s baby planning. When they’d slipped unnoticed out of the front parlor, Joyce had been weighing the merits of taking out a wall in Rupert’s small flat. Spike had ushered the man out before he could start sputtering objections, then pointed him in the direction of the study with the promise to join him shortly after checking in with Adam. 

Spike suddenly set down his empty glass and pulled out the folded paper from an inside pocket of his coat. He handed it over without saying a word. 

“What’s this?” Giles asked, taking the paper. He slipped his glasses on and opened the single sheet of paper. 

“Consider it an early christening gift.” 

“Good lord, Spike!” Giles sputtered, eyeing the deed to a prominent London address with his and Joyce’s name on it. His glasses came back off and he didn’t even bother to polish them, too floored by the extravagance of the gift to bother with the nervous habit. “This is— I say! We couldn’t possibly…” 

“It’s a done deal, Rupert. You can’t say no.” Spike told him. “The place isn’t furnished, though it does have a state-of-the-art security system installed. Figured you could tell the Slayer’s mum now and save your precious walls from being demolished.” 

Giles flustered and stammered for a bit, until Spike went in for the kill. 

“It was Buffy’s idea. And, the place is secure enough to allow us to visit from time to time. Now, come on. Let’s go share the good news with the ladies.” 

“Very well,” Giles replied finally, having the good sense to give in gracefully. 

Needless to say, Joyce was ecstatic and they made plans to drive into the city tomorrow to look over the property and come up with some ideas for decorating the place. However, when Spike announced that he planned to keep the clan in England until after Joyce gave birth, the squeals of delight from both Summers women were enough to shatter glass. 


	18. Chapter 18

It took Angel over a week to arrange a meeting with the Marabori, and in that time, he’d learned a few things about Alric. For instance, he knew that the vampire was shacked up in a rundown motel several blocks away from his building and that he had two humans with him. The male he’d seen a few times as he’d flipped the tables and done his own bit of stalking. The female he knew only by smell – having never laid eyes on the girl – and that only because Alric reeked of her. 

Even now, as Alric caught up with him outside his building and they climbed inside his car idling at the curb, Angel was overwhelmed by the scent of the girl clinging to him. He didn’t say anything, however, as he started the car and put it into gear, pulling out into traffic after a quick glance over his shoulder. 

The drive to the warehouse district was completed in silence with Alric spending the time staring out the window. Thankfully it was a short ride and less than ten minutes later, Angel was killing the engine and pocketing his keys. 

“Just so we’re clear, _I’ll_ be the one doing the talking,” Angel reiterated once again. 

Angel had done his own research on the Marabori, away from Doyle’s prying eyes, and hadn’t liked what he’d discovered – particularly the utter brutality of the species to anyone they viewed as an outsider. He was nervous enough about the meeting about to take place; he didn’t need an unpredictable vamp at his back making a muck of things. 

A grunt was his only reply and Angel frowned. “I’m serious, Alric. If you can’t keep it together, I’ll go in there alone.” 

The two got out of the car, and Angel watched as Alric’s face flickered between his human mask and demon aspect several times before he finally managed to get himself under control. The vamp was practically vibrating with tension as he stood next to the car, staring at the four-story building they were about to enter. 

“Come on,” Angel called over his shoulder and a moment later, felt Alric fall into step next to him. 

The door opened just before they reached it; they’d obviously been expected. Angel stiffened then forced himself to relax. He drew upon Angelus’ contempt for social niceties before stepping over the threshold at the demon’s urging, casting a disdainful look at the underling before starting in the direction it had indicated; he’d probably need the false bravado before the night was over. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“The two demons you wish to speak with have already left. Not that it matters, really; they had no boy child with them.” 

“He’s lying,” Alric growled under his breath. 

Angel elbowed him in the ribs to get him to shut up, then drew himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at the Marabori leader. A seemingly impossible task, given that the demon sat in a throne-like chair on a raised platform, his feet on eye level with Angel. 

“I find it hard to believe that your brethren would leave before your solstice scheduled for tomorrow evening. Almost amounts to sacrilege among your people, does it not?” 

“What do you know of it, vampire?” the leader sneered as he gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward, garnering the attention of several others loitering about. If their sudden interest and narrowed gazes were any indication, Angel and Alric would be fighting their way out of the Marabori stronghold soon. _Great, just great!_

“Forgive me. I meant no disrespect,” Angel backpedaled, though it grated to do so. 

Apparently the right thing to say, since the leader sat back in his chair and waved off his apology. 

“It’s a lucrative business venture I have in mind,” Angel continued. “A personal favor to me. One that I would be extremely… _grateful_ for… if you get my meaning…” 

“Go on…” 

“The boy. Where is he?” 

“I told you, there is no boy.” Angel opened his mouth to object but the Marabori beat him to it, adding, “Our young Kreshnic developed a liking to the creature, something his parents despaired of, so they sold him off. Couldn’t very well eat the thing with their spawn acting up, now could they?” 

Angel shook his head and prompted, “Sold?” 

The Marabori hummed thoughtfully and it was all Angel could do not to jump up on the platform and beat the information out of him, tired of being led about on a string. Alric was apparently of the same mind, given his clenched jaw and the noticeable tick to his cheek; he was a loaded gun, just waiting to explode. 

“Give me a few days. I’ll see what I can find out.” 

“Thank you,” Angel replied, somewhat stiffly, while placing a restraining hand on Alric’s wrist. “I’ll await word from you. We’ll see ourselves out.” 

Angel turned and walked off, dragging a protesting Alric behind him. It wasn’t until the two were outside that he rounded on the vampire. 

“Were you _trying_ to get us killed in there? I told you to keep your mouth shut.” 

“I don’t take orders from you,” Alric snapped. His chances of finding Hakan alive, let alone unscathed, had dwindled to almost nothing at the Marabori’s words and he couldn’t prevent taking his frustration out on Angel. 

Angel’s hand closed around the vampire’s throat reflexively at the disrespectful tone, the movement so fast, Alric had no time to react. 

“You asked for my help,” he snarled when they were nearly nose to nose. “And I think I’ve been pretty understanding up until this point, taken a lot on faith and not asked a lot of questions, and because I felt I owed you…” 

Alric had begun to struggle in his arms almost immediately, and Angel held onto him for a moment before shoving him away, disgusted. “You know what… forget it. The Marabori don’t have the boy so you don’t need me anymore. See you around, _kid_.” 

Angel washed his hands of the situation as he climbed in his car and left a fuming Alric behind to make his own way home. He felt marginally better, in that he’d gotten the last word edgewise. Actually chuckling as he hummed along to the song playing on the radio. 

It wasn’t until he’d pulled into the underground parking garage that he regretted his actions, however, and sat there a moment brooding. His previous experience with Alric had proved his almost cold, methodical behavior. Seeing him thus— 

“Shit,” he muttered. 

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place and Angel could have kicked himself for his shortsightedness. 

Following a hunch, he jumped out of his car – not really needing it for the short trip – and ran the few blocks to the motel Alric was using. He banged on the door and when no one answered, kicked it in. The human male stood in front of the closed bedroom door armed with a crossbow and holy water, the former trained on his chest; the look in his eye said he knew how to use the weapon and would have no hesitation doing so. 

Not that he’d succeed, but then, the human didn’t need to know that. Besides, Angel wasn’t there to hurt anyone, just get some answers. He said as much to the man. 

“Take one more step, and I shoot,” he was told, not missing how Angel was slowly inching forward. 

Angel sighed and before the guy could so much as blink, vaulted the table and snatched away the crossbow, tossing it into a far corner and out of reach. A shot rang out, loud even with the silencer attached, and Angel hissed in pain, both from the impact and the sudden spray of holy water to his chest, but ignored it as he disarmed the human… again. 

“I said I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled. “I just want some… ouch… dammit, stop it!” 

The struggle continued for several more minutes, mainly because Angel really wasn’t trying to cause the human any pain, just disarm him. He barely managed to block a kick to the groin before he figured enough was enough and tossed the man onto the couch and headed for the closed door. 

He froze upon spying the girl huddled beneath the covers, eyes open and staring unseeing at the wall in front of her. He moved forward but stopped before actually reaching the bed, Alric’s claim easily sensed at such close proximity. Something he should have figured out before now, especially given that Alric smelled so much of her. 

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked quietly not bothering to turn around. 

“It’s not my place to say.” 

“But you do know?” Angel prompted. 

“Yes.” 

“Does it have something to do with this boy you’re trying to find?” 

Angel finally tore his gaze away from the girl when the human didn’t answer. 

“Well, they certainly can’t say you aren’t loyal, now can they? You got a name?” He sighed again when the human continued to remain mute. “The Marabori didn’t have the boy, but I’ll see if I can find out what happened with him. Look, I better go before Alric gets back; we didn’t actually part on the best of terms. If he asks, tell him… just tell him the truth. I broke the door down, saw the girl, asked you a few questions that you didn’t answer, then left.” 

Angel walked to the door and had his hand on the knob when the human spoke. 

“His name is Hakan Highblood. The boy is… the boy is the girl’s younger brother.” 

Angel nodded, indicating that he’d heard and quietly let himself out of the motel room. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric strode purposefully toward the motel, unable to mask the anger that stiffened his spine. Not even a trip through the less savory section of downtown Los Angeles had been enough to lessen the rage he felt. Angry at himself because he’d been unable to end his Consort’s torment. 

The boy was still out there, if the Marabori were to be believed – alive and hopefully unharmed. Alric’s only lead hung by a thread because he’d alienated Angel. He’d have to apologize to the vamp, something he was loathe to do. 

He debated going by Angel’s home, then thought better of it, a pressing need to see his Consort uppermost in his mind. As he turned the corner onto the street of the motel they were staying in, he was glad he’d put off seeing Angel for another day. The scent of the elder vamp was overwhelming and he broke into a run, skidding to a halt at seeing the front door off its hinge. 

There was a moment when absolute fear paralyzed his body. Then he snapped out of it and raced forward, crashing through the door resting against the frame, vamp faced and snarling. 

“He’s gone,” were the first words out of Bob’s mouth and Alric released a pent up breath. 

“What did he want?” 

“He burst in here, demanding answers about the boy. I didn’t tell him anything,” Bob lied – even he was smart enough not to rile Alric any more than he already was. He’d made a judgment call, telling the vampire Hakan’s name, and just prayed it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass. “Anyway… he left, and I started packing. We can be out of here in five minutes.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Alric murmured distractedly on his way to see Tala, assure for himself that she was safe. 

He’d taken a risk, asking Angel for help, but had weighed the vamp’s domineering nature against his desire to have the boy returned to him with all possible haste. It had backfired – not surprisingly. Things hadn’t been going his way since he’d ventured back to the states. 

Now Angel knew he had a Consort. 

What the vamp would do with that information was anyone’s guess. As much as he hated to, they were going to have to leave Los Angeles, at least for the time being. If Angel let slip to Doyle that Alric had taken a Consort, his sire would descend upon the city, and everyone else along with him, and there’d be no way he could avoid them all for long. 

No, a strategic retreat was in order. Once he had both Tala and Bob at a secure location, he’d venture back to the city on his own and shadow the vampire, see if he’d come up with any leads in his absence. 


	19. Chapter 19

While Joyce and Buffy were upstairs occupied with making plans for the nursery – the last room of Joyce and Giles’ new townhouse to get decorated – Spike left Giles to his own devices so he could make a quick stop by the apartment Alric had rented before vanishing. He didn’t expect to find anything changed; the N’agrom would have called otherwise. 

But, even after six months, Alric’s scent still lingered in the rooms. And he needed that right now. Needed to feel like he was close to the youngest of his childer, even if it was only an illusion. 

Sighing heavily, Spike used the key and let himself into the apartment. As he expected, nothing was out of place; dust collected on the apartment’s meager possessions. He wandered from room to room, inhaling deeply at times as the scent of Alric became more prevalent in places than in others. 

“Where are you, Alric?” he murmured quietly to the vacant room. 

An hour later, he was back in Giles’ study with Buffy none the wiser to his absence. He’d yet to tell her the true reason behind Alric’s disappearance, not wanting her to worry. If something didn’t happen soon, however, he was going to have to confess. He mentally cringed at the hell he’d be forced to pay in the telling and eagerly consumed the libation Giles held out to him. 

Giles quirked his eyebrow in query, but Spike ignored him and drank the liquor down in one swallow and then held out his empty glass for a refill. Giles complied, and this he sipped at a more leisurely pace, as befitting a single malt whisky. He appreciated the fact that Giles didn’t probe, instead sitting across from him in a vacant chair and speaking of mundane matters – his new shop, the last bit of decorating to be done to the townhouse, the joy of seeing Joyce grow round with child and all that it entailed. 

Several hours went by before Joyce and Buffy returned, the two women talking excitedly as they let themselves into the study and took a seat on the couch. Spike glanced at Giles and saw the man’s rueful expression. 

“ _Poor bastard_ ,” Spike couldn’t help but laugh to himself, imagining how much lighter the former watcher’s pockets were going to end up being once the nursery was finally complete. 

Still, he was pleased to see that the worn edges around Buffy’s eyes were temporarily banked. With the names of several of the more prominent demon slavers in hand, thanks to Alric, the Clan had gone to work systematically obliterating the farms in and around England. It had been a shock to all of them at seeing the sheer volume of humans locked away in pens, many of them no older than the Slayer. 

It was seeing the children being treated no better than animals that had gotten to his wife, the youngest they’d rescued thus far barely three years old. Each successive breeding farm they’d discovered had been another weight on her shoulders. Shoulders already burdened with enough to carry. 

Granting Buffy this time with her mother seemed a small price to pay to keep her from losing it completely. If he had to suffer through baby talk and decorating tips, so be it. 

Though he did wonder if showing the Slayer a glimpse of what she’d never have for herself – a child of her own – was making matters worse. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel had been watching the house all week and was fairly confident of the elderly woman’s schedule. The biggest problem he’d had since coming to the small town had been remaining hidden from the overwhelmingly Indian population, and a decidedly suspicious one at that. 

Seeing his intended target make her way up the dirt walk to the modest house at the end of the street, Angel left his hiding space and snuck up behind the woman just as she went to open the front door. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand covering her mouth, preventing her from crying out for help. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured into the woman’s ear as she struggled against him. His eyes darted up and down the street to make sure no one was looking. Thankfully the few houses were spaced far apart and he easily lifted the woman and carried her around back, away from prying eyes. 

Once in the back yard, Angel immediately set the woman down on her feet and took a step back, trying to assure her by his actions that he meant her no harm. 

“I need your help,” he began without preamble as he gazed into brown eyes wise beyond their years. Praying she would understand what he was saying. 

“Ana’i,” the woman hissed, pointing a finger in his direction as she took a step backwards. 

“I’m not— I won’t—” then, “Damn. This was a stupid idea.” Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, upsetting the gel that had slicked the locks into place. Taking a chance, he uttered the boy’s name. 

It garnered an immediate reaction – rapid-fire speech in a language he didn’t understand as she stalked towards him, arms raised as if to hit him. Then it was he that was taking a step back, hands raised in a placating gesture as he stuttered out an explanation about the boy, that Hakan was relatively unharmed, if still held captive, but that he needed someone the boy would recognize when he was rescued, to know that he was safe. Angel just wished he knew the girl’s name. 

His story must have had some impact on the elderly woman, because she stopped and began in halting English, “Hakan is well?” 

“For a little while longer, yes.” _I hope_. “But, I need you to come with me. I need someone he recognizes. Someone he trusts.” 

After first getting Hakan’s initial location from the Marabori, Angel had been trailing behind the boy as he’d been passed – much like a hot potato – among different demon clans. It was almost as if each successive owner realized the bad karma associated with possessing the kid and were eager in their haste to get rid of him. The constant moving had made it difficult rescuing Hakan; the one time he’d nearly been successful, he’d been caught unaware by a secondary assailant and wound up with a stake to his back. A stake that had narrowly missed his heart. 

He’d had to heal on his own, which had caused much of the delay since he couldn’t feed properly, leaving him weak as a result. Calling Doyle for help had been out of the question; he’d sworn to Alric he’d not say a word and he meant to keep his promise. If he’d told Doyle what had happened and why, Doyle would have been obligated to call Spike – the two were friends, after all – and then there’d be hell to pay when Spike inevitably showed up. And he didn’t doubt for one second that Spike would. 

From what he’d been able to read between the lines, Spike had no idea of Alric’s whereabouts and Alric had wanted to keep it that way. Knowing Spike like he did, it probably wasn’t sitting very well with the vamp. 

He’d lost precious time respecting Alric’s wishes, and it was only now, months later, that a tiny lead had panned out and he’d finally located the boy. Praying Hakan would remain safe for a little while longer, he’d backtracked to Arizona. 

Now here he stood, praying the woman would agree to come with him. Finally, she nodded, somewhat jerkily, and Angel heaved a sigh of relief. He was one step closer to rescuing Hakan. 

Little did he realize how much his plan was going to backfire. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob watched Alric warily as the vampire paced the small confines of the motel room they were staying in. For the first time since being taken into the confidences of the Clan, he felt something akin to fear at being in such close proximity to the vampire. He fervently believed that Alric wouldn’t harm him, but unfortunately, the demon standing before him bore little resemblance to the vampire he’d come to know over the years. 

After Angel had broken into their hotel room, they’d packed up and left the city. A few days later, Alric had gone back to see if the Marabori had given Angel word of Hakan’s whereabouts. Evidently he had, because Alric could find no trace of Angel. 

For two days, Bob had been alone with Tala while Alric had searched – something he’d like to never have happen again while she was in her current state. Without Alric’s presence, Tala hadn’t eaten, no matter how much he tried coaxing her, even when he’d gone so far as to claim her master had ordered it. 

Alric had come back, fit to be tied. First at having lost his one opportunity of finding Hakan, and then because Tala had seemed to slip further away in his absence. As the weeks had passed, with them still no closer to finding some clue as to Hakan’s whereabouts – or even Angel’s, for that matter – Alric had regressed even more. He barely talked, and when he did, it was more of a growl than anything remotely civilized. 

In a last ditch effort, Bob had suggested that they return to Whiteriver. Hopefully the presence of Tala’s adoptive grandmother might pull the girl from her almost lifeless existence. Alric had reluctantly agreed, willing to try anything at that point, and they’d gathered their things and driven east towards Arizona. 

“How do you know she’s gone?” Bob asked in answer to Alric’s growled statement. 

“Angel. I could smell him. Faint, but there. He’s taken her.” 

“You sure?” 

“No— yes. I don’t know.” Frustrated, Alric ran a hand through his hair and by sheer will was able to temporarily shake away his demon. Finally, he sat and looked at the human that had remained faithfully by his side. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Bob. Tala, she’s— she’s retreating. Willing herself to die.” 

“Call your sire. Call Spike.” 

“I can’t.” 

“But—” 

“I said I _can’t_ ,” Alric snapped. His demon flicked briefly over his features. “You should go back, though. I’ve kept you long enough.” 

“I’m staying with you. You need my help.” 

“Bob—” 

Bob got up, effectively ending the conversation. He tried not to flinch at the growl he heard as he left the room and let himself out of the motel. It was late in the day, almost time for him to get something for him and Tala to eat. He took his time, hopefully allowing Alric’s temper to cool, choosing to walk to the local grocery store as opposed to driving. 

A mistake on his part, because when he arrived back at the motel almost an hour after he’d left, arms laden with two bags of groceries, the motel door stood slightly ajar. 

Bob knew right away that Alric and Tala were gone. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob waited a week before calling WT Enterprises in Dallas, one of the front companies of the Clan. He wanted to give Alric time to put as much distance between himself and what Bob was sure to be the entirety of Alric’s family descending upon the area. That he was mentally preparing himself for the confrontation with Spike, he refused to acknowledge. 

He dialed the toll free number and waited a few moments for it to be answered by the receptionist. 

“This is Robert Higgins. Put me through to Mr. Nottingham’s personal assistant.” Nottingham was the fake name Adam used as CEO of the company. 

“Right away, sir.” 

“Mr. Nottingham’s office,” a feminine voice answered on the second ring. 

“Amanda? It’s Bob. I need the jet fueled up and sent to Phoenix. I’m about four hours away.” 

“I’ll call Steve.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Bob—?” 

Bob hung up before Amanda could ask any questions; he didn’t expect to be so lucky once he got to Phoenix. In fact, he was pretty sure there’d be a secure phone with his name on it, and on the other end of the line, Spike. 


	20. Chapter 20

Doyle really didn’t want to involve Spike, especially given the feelings the volatile vampire harbored for Angel, but he was at his wit’s end. Angel had been missing for over two months now. The Powers had been decidedly closed-mouthed on the subject and without their help, his detective skills were severely lacking. He’d known there’d been something on Angel’s mind right before he’d disappeared but hadn’t wanted to pry. 

“I should have pried,” he muttered as the phone rang in his ear. 

“Should have pried where?” Spike asked irritably. 

“Spike! Heh. Hey! Nothing. Um— you got a second?” 

“Do you know what bloody time it is, mate?” 

Doyle looked at his clock and cringed. “Sorry?” 

“What do you want? And you better not tell me your bloody Powers have something they need us to do. Got enough going on across the pond to come traipsing back there right now. Let Angel deal with it.” 

Doyle heard a shuffling noise that came through the line and then Spike murmuring, “Go back to sleep, pet.” Silence, and then what sounded like a door closing. 

“What’s wrong, mate? Not like you to forget to check the time before you call.” 

“It’s, uh, about Angel, actually,” Doyle spit out. “He’s missing.” 

“Missing?” 

“Yes. Missing. For almost two months.” 

“And you’re just now calling me?” Spike snapped. 

“Well—” 

“Doyle,” Spike interrupted, instinctively sensing what the half-breed was about to say, that the less said about Angel, the better. “The wanker pisses me off most days, but he _is_ still family— of sorts.” 

“I was handling it.” 

“Doesn’t bloody well look like it from where I’m sittin’.” 

Doyle sighed. “Can you help me out here, or not? I hate to admit it, but I’m worried, Spike.” 

“What do your Powers have to say?” 

“Not much of anything.” 

“Fat lot of help they are.” The two were of a common mind when it came to the Powers That Be. 

“Tell me! _So_ —?” 

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Spike finally answered. 

“Thanks, Spike.” Doyle hung up when he heard the line disconnect without so much as a goodbye from the vampire. He smiled though – Spike hadn’t said no. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike walked down the hall towards “command central” – Adam’s nickname for the unused bedroom that had been converted into an elaborate office. He let himself into the room and smiled at Clayton who stopped typing to look up. 

“Hello, Clayton.” 

“Sire.” 

“I need you to put out some feelers in LA. It seems we’ve lost an—” Spike almost said ‘another’. “… a vampire. Doyle just called. Says that Angel’s gone missing. See if you can figure out what he was working on. Retrace his steps.” 

“Do you need me to go to Los Angeles?” 

“No. At least, not yet anyway,” Spike amended. “Let me know what your search turns up, if anything.” 

Clayton nodded and Spike took a moment to brush his fingers over his childe’s cheek in silent thanks before leaving the room and returning to bed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob had been at Sky Harbor International Airport for almost an hour when he was paged to a courtesy phone. He stood and straightened his tie; his suit was a recent purchase now that he was officially representing the company once more. The only thing missing was the firearm he usually had tucked away in a shoulder holster, but he figured that would be taken care of as soon as the company jet landed. 

“This is Robert Higgins.” Bob was happy to note that his voice didn’t quaver. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve he was given when an airport official came on the line and announced that his company’s jet was just now taxiing and gave him the particulars for departure. After thanking the operator and hanging up the phone, he looked around to get his bearings, then started off – to what he felt like – was his own execution. 

Steve was just coming down the steps when Bob walked into the hangar. 

“Hey, Bob! Long time no see.” 

“Yeah.” Bob smiled weakly, wondering how much the pilot knew about his situation; the man’s poker face gave nothing away, unfortunately. 

“Just gonna stretch my legs for a few,” Steve told him. “Wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

Steve walked off, making for the hangar door, and Bob turned around and had just put his hand on the rail to go up the steps when the other’s comment stopped him cold. 

“Adam wants you to call him on his private line.” 

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks. You, uh, said wheels up in thirty?” 

“Uh huh. Flying to London with a layover in New York—but I’m sure Adam will fill you in when you call him.” 

_‘I just bet he will,’_ Bob thought, though he smiled pleasantly before Steve turned away. _‘Fuck!’_

Still, he wouldn’t have changed anything about the past six months, and if Adam thought he was going to get any information out of him— 

“This is one pattern you’re gonna have to figure out without any help,” Bob muttered. 

After retrieving one of the cell phones from a hidden compartment inside one of the cabinets, he sat down and placed the call. Knowing Adam like he did, he expected the vamp to be counting the minutes between when the jet landed and when the call was made. Anything short of as soon as possible would be met with a sharp reprimand by Adam, and Bob figured he was in enough trouble as it was. 

As expected, Adam answered on the first ring. Also, as expected, the first question out of his mouth after a terse “Bob” was “Where is Alric?” 

Thankfully, he could honestly answer that he didn’t know, and he didn’t, which resulted in the vampire losing his cool and shouting into the phone. Bob didn’t even bother to flinch; he was saving that for his confrontation with Spike. And there was no doubt in Bob’s mind that he was going to be having a one-on-one with the head of the Clan. 

Adam’s tirade went on for several minutes, and Bob took the time to shrug out of his coat and pour himself a drink. He looked up as Steve stepped into view, rolled his eyes at the man’s knowing smirk. 

“How long?” Bob mouthed. 

Steve held up two fingers; twenty minutes before Bob could ring off with the excuse that he had to stow the phone so it wouldn’t interfere with the airport tower’s communications. He glanced at his watch and sighed, though not loud enough for Adam to hear. 

The phone suddenly went quiet and Bob waited, tense. 

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” 

“No,” Bob replied honestly. He could hear Adam draw in a breath to speak and cut him off, adding, “And I’d do the same for you. I’m not a tattle-tale, Adam.” 

Adam, chuckling, replied, “I hope you don’t use that argument on my sire. Alright, Bob. Keep your secrets. I’ll see you when you land at Heathrow.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The line went dead and Bob leaned back in his chair, took a healthy swig of his drink. _‘One bullet dodged.’_ He knew he wasn’t going to be so lucky the next go-round. 

Alric was _so_ going to owe him, putting him in the hot seat like he had. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

A car was waiting inside the hangar when Bob opened the side door and stepped out onto the top stair. However, the dark windows made it impossible to determine who was waiting for him. Mentally steeling himself for the confrontation, Bob squared his shoulders and made for the car. As he drew close, the back window rolled down just enough for him to hear a terse, “Get in.” 

Bob froze as he opened the door; Spike was alone, and if his expression was any indication, was none too pleased. He slid into the seat facing the vampire and closed the door behind him. Tried to project a calm exterior when Spike rattled off the address to their Chinatown apartment to the driver. 

The vampire didn’t say another word during the trip and rather than engage in a staring contest, Bob stared out the window and watched the London scenery whip by. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike preceded Bob into the apartment and walked around the room, his hand ghosting over the back of the couch, along the tabletop. His eyes never left Bob so he saw the human’s eyes dart briefly towards the bedroom Alric had used. 

“Where do your loyalties lie, Bob?” Spike demanded abruptly. 

“With the Clan,” Bob stammered out immediately. 

“As the head of the Clan—” Spike began, but never got to finish. 

“There were reasons Alric did what he did.” Bob’s eyes again flickered briefly to the room he and Tala had shared. “I didn’t think he should go off alone, so I went with him. Fire me if you want, I don’t care, but I’m not going to betray his trust by talking to you.” 

Spike’s eyes narrowed and he scowled at Bob near trembling before him, though secretly, he struggled not to smile in the face of the human’s defiance. As much as he wanted to pound the information out of Bob, Spike respected the man for sticking to his guns and maintaining his silence. Adam had said the driver was very loyal. And he was, individually and collectively. It was easy to see how torn Bob was. Spike turned and walked towards Alric’s room. 

“Relax, Bob. You obviously don’t know where Alric is or you wouldn’t be standing here now. Am I right?” Spike glanced back over his shoulder and saw Bob reluctantly nod, shoulders drooping. “I would like to know about my childe’s consort though.” 

“How—?” 

“How did I know?” Spike asked, turning around. “I can smell her. And the landlord confirmed as much to me when I asked.” 

“I—I can’t,” Bob sighed. 

“But she is the reason, or at least part of the reason Alric won’t come home.” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re loyal; I appreciate that. However, if your silence results in my childe being hurt—” 

“I would never! I mean…” His voice trailed off and he appeared conflicted. “I told Alric that I would tell you. That if you asked, I wouldn’t lie to you. If you really think it’ll make a difference, I’ll tell you why Alric did what he did. But Tala—” 

“Tala?” 

“Alric’s, uh, consort? She-she’s got nothing, not even her pride. Alric wanted to give her that before he presented her to the clan. And now—” Bob shook his head, frustrated that they’d been unable to find Hakan and bring Tala back from her trance-like state, that she continued to linger on, entirely unresponsive to anything happening to her or around her. 

“Now?” Spike prompted, practically growling in his impatience to get at the truth behind his childe’s disappearance, but Bob had clammed back up. “Fine. You’re to stay here in case Alric comes back.” Seeing Bob’s expression he added, “It’s either that or I ship you back to the States. My wife thinks you’re still with Alric. If you return to Jocelyn’s, she’s going to start asking questions.” 

“Alright, but I don’t think Alric’s gonna come back. We only rented the place for a month; it’s long past that now.” 

Spike smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and tossed Bob his cell phone. “Keep that. Adam will be in touch. Oh, and Bob? When this is all over, remind me to tell you Gina’s story.” 

Then he left, leaving behind a very confused, but very relieved, human. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric let himself into the small room he’d rented and shut the door. He’d been reduced to letting from the demon populace because he no longer had any control over his demon. It was the main reason he’d ditched Bob; he just wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to take another scent in such close proximity with his Consort. And, rather than do something he’d later regret, he’d fled. 

In the tiny kitchen, he poured out a small portion of soup and put the rest in the refrigerator. Tala’s eating habits were getting worse; if she didn’t come out of her trance soon, he was going to be reduced to turning her – something he was trying to avoid, if at all possible. Not that he was opposed to turning her; he just felt that she should have some say in the matter. 

After placing the bowl on the bedside table, Alric set about enticing Tala into eating. He finally barked out, “Eat!” in a manner guaranteed to get her compliance, amber eyes boring into dark brown devoid of emotion, and began the long, tedious process of spoon feeding his Consort. A bath followed dinner – torture for him as he nestled behind her in the tub, sponge sweeping cursorily around body parts he’d dearly love to linger over. 

Their one time together flashed in his mind, how she’d felt – and tasted. 

He wanted that again, even though he’d made a muck of that as well. Wanted it so bad, he was half tempted to take her anyway. Part of him rationalized that it just might be the thing to bring Tala back to him. That joining with her, reclaiming her with cock and fangs, would reach her where nothing else had. The circumstances surrounding his having claimed her in the first place always stopped him before he did, however. He wanted Tala to verbalize her assent to his taking, wanted to see her eyes alight with recognition. 

Each day, though, it was getting harder and harder to resist his demon’s natural tendencies. 

That was when he’d escape into the night, substituting violence for what he’d really rather be doing. Only returning to Tala’s side once his demon was temporarily sated on the bloodletting. 

He’d crawl into bed then, nuzzle into his Consort’s neck and drink. Drift off to sleep, sometimes with his fangs still buried in her throat – and with what he thought was her pleasurable sigh. 

The water had cooled considerably before Alric roused himself enough to gently push Tala away from his chest and stand, bringing her to her feet with him as he did so. She stood docilely as he wrapped a towel around her middle and lifted her into his arms, hanging limply as he carried her back to the bedroom. 

Alric felt his cock – already hard – begin to throb almost painfully the moment he climbed into bed and drew Tala to lie next to him, their bodies pressed tightly together. Knew, too, that he’d once again be leaving her side the moment she fell asleep. He sighed, tucked Tala’s head under his chin, and silently counted the minutes until she drifted off. 


	21. Chapter 21

Spike’s phone rang and he excused himself from the others loitering in the study to answer it. 

“Sire?” the voice crackled over the line, more growl than anything else, and even if he’d not had all his other childer accounted for, Spike would have known it was Alric. 

His childe’s pain was palpable and Spike’s own voice was equally gruff when he answered. “Alric.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can— It’s— It hurts, Sire,” Alric whined into the phone. 

“It’s time to come home, Alric.” 

“I can’t.” Alric’s voice was barely a whisper in the phone. “I—” 

“Go to Kagoshima. I’ll be there soon. We’ll _all_ be there soon.” 

“Sire—” 

“ _Go_ , Alric,” Spike all but growled into the phone. Added quietly, “Alric, I can’t help you like this. Go home.” 

The call disconnected in Spike’s ear, but not before he heard Alric sigh in resignation. His lips turned upward in a half-smile; Alric would be in Japan when the Clan arrived. 

Spike called Adam and apprised him of Alric’s phone call, that Alric would soon return, and it was okay for him to call Bob and have him resume his duties at Jocelyn’s estate. 

“That’s good news, Sire.” 

Spike hummed his assent into the phone. 

“I’ve also got a lead on that Bushlwarknik slave compound,” Adam added. 

“Oh? This the last one then?” 

“Of its size? Yes. Fancy a spot of violence, Sire?” 

Spike could sense Adam’s eagerness and had to laugh. “Let the others there know and meet me at Rupert’s after sunset. We finish this tonight.” 

When he returned to the study, Buffy and his childer looked at him enquiringly, having picked up on his mood. Before he had a chance to say anything, however, Joyce interrupted him with a loud exclamation. 

“Oh! I swear, Rupert! She gets more active as the day draws near.” 

Giles smiled and rested his palm against Joyce’s rounded stomach. Laughed when he felt a tell-tale kick. “That she is, my love,” he agreed. Their hands linked and Giles gave Joyce a reassuring squeeze. “Won’t be long now.” 

Less than a month, actually, as Joyce was nearly full term. 

It was later that afternoon before Spike had a chance to tell Buffy and the others that Alric had finished up in Germany and was returning home and that Adam had found the Bushlwarknik compound, that they’d be paying it a visit once the others arrived. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel was yanked from the van and then propped between two Prisk’tol demons, bare feet left to scrape along the dirt floor as he was dragged into his cell. There was a clank of metal and a loud creak as the door opened before he was dumped unceremoniously on a narrow cot situated against the far wall. 

“Here’s your prize, vampire,” one of the demons laughed, dropping a bag of blood not far from his head. It was unfortunate that Angel was in too much pain to lift his arms to reach it; he was beyond ravenous and cared not that the blood was spiked with a sedative. 

He almost hadn’t walked away from this latest fight; it was only the image of Hakan and Nana – the name she’d insisted he use – and what would happen if he were dusted that had given him the strength to persevere and defeat his opponent. 

Once the two demons’ ringing laughter grew softer and disappeared altogether as they left the underground cellar, Angel heard Nana slowly making her way to his side. 

“You’re gonna have to open the bag for me, Nana,” Angel told her wearily. 

At her lengthy pause, his eyes opened to see the elder woman’s lips pursed with a mixture of concern and disapproval. He sighed, already sensing the coming battle. It was one they had often in the past month. Especially when he was returned to his cage much like he was now – too weak to stand, let alone feed, blood pouring out of his wounds at an alarming rate, cuts and bruises littering his body. 

“No,” she told him, then tossed the blood packet in a corner out of reach. “You argue, but it is no good. You will not survive next time.” 

“I will…” 

“You will _not_. Think of Hakan. Think what they will do to him. Already they look at him with knowing eyes.” 

“What you ask is impossible!” Angel protested. Draining the woman to save himself and the boy was not an option. He refused to sacrifice her. They were all getting out of there together; he just had to figure out how. 

“Not impossible. Easy.” 

“Killing you isn’t _easy_ , dammit,” he hissed, glancing furtively at the small pallet in the corner where Hakan was sleeping. Thankfully, the boy had not awakened from their arguing. “Do you have any idea what this will do to the boy?” 

“I am thinking of Hakan. I am an old woman. Even if all three of us managed to escape, I would just slow you down. We would be caught before night’s end. No, this is the only way. You two will escape while they are upstairs celebrating. My blood will give you the strength you need to get free of this cage.” 

“Nana—” 

“Rest easy…” Nana soothed, petting Angel’s ridged brow with fingers gnarled with age, no longer fearful of his demonic features. “Neither I nor my tribe will bear you ill will for doing this, you have my blood oath.” 

Angel could see Nana’s resolve and sighed again, wondering how his soul would survive taking her life. It was his fault he’d dragged the woman with him to free Hakan. If he’d just rescued the boy first they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

“… I will have yours in return.” 

“Huh?” Angel shook himself out of his reverie. 

“You are the boy’s protector. He is in your care as of this moment. Nothing and no one is to come between you until Hakan is of an age that he can care for himself. You will tell the Tribal Council this. That I have chosen you. Your oath, Ana’i.” 

Angel closed his eyes. “It is given.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel gently laid Nana back against the cot and tucked his threadbare blanket up around her shoulders. The elderly woman looked peaceful in death which just made his guilt all that more difficult to bear. He tucked a strand of frazzled gray hair behind her ear, ran a fingertip along her weathered cheek before standing and abruptly turning away. 

Already he could feel his wounds start to close over, his bruises fade away, and for the first time in what seemed like ever, Angel was able to suppress his demon. With human blood coursing through his veins, preternatural senses – senses that had grown fuzzy first due to years of living off animal blood and then more recently the drugged blood – sharpened into crystalline clarity. He easily heard the Prisk’tol demons moving about upstairs, and as Nana had predicted, they were well into their celebratory party. 

It was now or never, Angel thought, as he moved to the door of his cage and easily yanked it off its hinges. Afterwards, he systematically went from cage to cage and did the same for his fellow prisoners before returning to his own cell to retrieve Hakan. Humans and demons alike made for the underground exit and what they hoped would be their freedom, and Angel cast one last glance at Nana before melding into the crowd. 

His features hardened and he ignored the lingering pain of his half-healed injuries and jogged up the tunnel, eager to put the hell of the last several months behind him. He froze at the exit and let his demon out, needing its heightened senses to aid in his escape. Hakan woke and mumbled his name, and Angel shushed the boy back to sleep; thankfully Hakan snuggled into his chest and did like he asked, allowing Angel to concentrate on the night sounds and figure out which way to go. 

Angel started off in a different direction than the others fleeing the compound. Some innate sense told him he had maybe a handful of hours before the sun would be up; spying the barren countryside, he was going to be hard pressed to find someplace to hide before then. 

Still, he refused to give up, to waste Nana’s sacrifice. 

He would find some place for them to hide. 

He _would_ get Hakan reunited with his sister. 

Then he would return to this place, take it apart brick by brick when he did; he had a debt to settle with his captors. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

It wasn’t until Angel stopped – the impending sunrise making it necessary – that he realized he had a tail. He tucked Hakan deep into the shrubs then turned around and set out after whoever had followed him. 

Angel found her in minutes, relaxing his aggressive stance as he stepped out from his hiding place and spied one of the slave girls he’d released. A demon, though she looked human enough; the poor thing looked as badly off as he was. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Faline.” 

“Come on,” he waved her to follow him back where he’d hidden Hakan. He couldn’t save Nana, but he damn sure was going to save this girl. 

The sun crested the horizon just as he hunkered down in the bushes with Hakan and the girl. He couldn’t believe his luck that he’d encountered what appeared to be a thick copse of trees behind which stood mountains that might have been the Rocky Mountains and gave a passing thought that Doyle’s Powers had had a hand in providing him some sanctuary. A very passing thought. Because if the Powers really had control of his fate, then they could have done better than just provide him a safe haven to ride out the daylight hours. 

Something like him freeing Hakan without getting caught, or barring that, making it so that he could escape with both Hakan _and_ Nana. 

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he told Faline as he settled himself behind Hakan. “If the boy wakes up, make sure he doesn’t leave the immediate area.” 

“Okay.” 

Angel closed his eyes, having put his trust in the girl. Though he’d like to think he’d wake up if he sensed any danger. With as weak as he was, he wasn’t quite sure. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

For a week, the three traversed the mountainside, moving in a southward direction, always careful to avoid the few deserted roads they encountered. Angel scrounged for their food, killing an odd rabbit here and there, draining its blood before skinning it and cooking it for Hakan and Faline. He didn’t want to chance going up against bigger game. 

While the infusion of Nana’s blood had started his healing, living off barely a pint of animal blood a day had done much to drain Angel of his already depleted strength. A few more days and he’d wind up in the same position he’d been in at the Prisk’tol compound, too weak to take care of himself, let alone his two charges. 

The sun finally set and Angel nodded at Hakan and Faline; it was time to set out. The pace was unhurried because of the extreme darkness, though as the trees began to thin out, Angel couldn’t help but lengthen his stride. 

He thought he smelled humans in the distance – the scent on the air much different than what he’d come to expect over the last week –and motioned for Faline to stop and wait with Hakan while he checked it out. There were lights far in the distance, and Angel could have wept with relief at what that meant. He staggered down the hill and slowly made his way towards the small town and civilization. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel had to break into a store to steal enough money for them to rent a room in the small town of Augusta, and he silently vowed to come back and make things right for the people who owned it. 

Now with the three of them settled into their motel room, Angel took a moment to sit down and write. He hated involving Spike – the vamp had his own new life to live – but he’d do anything to keep Hakan safe, even throwing himself on the mercy of his grandchilde. He’d given his oath. In his condition, he could barely look after himself, let alone two children. 

His hand hovered over the paper, unsure how to open the letter. In the end, he decided on something sure to gain a response. 

_Most Favored Childe_ , he wrote, not surprised at how easily the words flowed across the paper. After that, explaining his situation came easy, though he kept the details vague, saying only that he was hurt and had the care of two fellow escapees and wasn’t sure if the demons would still be looking for them. He closed with his plea for urgency and signed his name. 

On another sheet of paper, he wrote a brief note to Giles, asking that he deliver his letter to Spike with all possible haste. 

The weather worked in his favor, gloomy to match his mood, and he let himself out with instructions that Faline keep an eye on Hakan while he ran to the post office to deliver his letter, that afterwards he’d stop by the convenience store and pick up a few things for them to eat. If he could find a stray animal while he was out, he wouldn’t turn his nose up at it; he was beyond ravenous. 


	22. Chapter 22

As the others climbed out of the back of the limousine with the assistance of Bob, Spike sat back and pulled the letter from his coat pocket. The watcher had been most apologetic in having delayed in giving him the missive from Angel, citing his preoccupation with Joyce’s eminent delivery that resulted in him neglecting his own mail. Spike had bit back a sharp retort; it wasn’t like he’d informed the watcher of Angel’s disappearance, so he couldn’t rightly fault the man. 

For the last few weeks, he’d had Clayton trying to find some lead on his grandsire, but had come up empty. It was as if Angel had just vanished. Doyle, naturally, had called almost every other day, demanding an update. The censure in the half-breed’s tone had been obvious when he’d called earlier to check in and Spike had informed him, yet again, of no new developments, but that they’d continue their search from Japan. 

“You’re going to Japan? _Now_? With Angel still missing?” 

“I’m gonna overlook what you said, on account of us bein’ mates, but know this.” His voice had been gruff with barely concealed rage. “The Slayer is walkin’ round with shell-shocked eyes from this last little cleanup we’ve done. It damn near broke her heart seeing all those kids in that hellhole. _She’s_ my concern. My childer, who’ve been sire-less for the last century, are my concern.” 

“Spike, I didn’t mean—” 

But he was cut off and Spike barked into the phone. “They need me right now. And I’m not gonna abandon them to go hieing off around the globe looking for my misplaced grandsire. Not when I can just as easily do it from Japan.” 

He’d hung up on his friend and had been close to shutting off his phone when he remembered that Alric might need him and reluctantly left it on. Doyle had been smart and had not called him back, giving him the space he’d needed to cool off. 

“Give me a minute,” Spike called out to Bob when he sensed the human’s presence at the car door. 

Bob drifted away, and Spike tore into the envelope and quickly scanned Angel’s letter, though he paused briefly when he saw how it had been addressed. His hand shook slightly when he refolded the paper and stuffed it back in the envelope and then in his pocket; he’d read through the lines and knew that Angel must be in serious trouble to actually ask for his help, especially given their most recent history. 

Spike got out of the limousine and glanced around, spying Bob supervising the placement of their bags in the back of the jet. 

“Bob!” 

The human’s head whipped around and Spike beckoned him over. 

“Change of plans. I want you on the next plane bound for the States.” 

Bob’s brows drew together in confusion but he didn’t interrupt Spike. The vampire was definitely agitated about something. He started making plans in his head, but then Spike spoke again. 

“I want you in Augusta, Montana, as fast as humanly possible. Something gets in your way, throw money at it until it disappears.” Spike slid the ring off his right hand and handed it to Bob. “Give this to Angelus; he’ll know you’re acting in my stead.” 

“Angelus?” 

“My grandsire. I doubt you met him while we were in Sunnydale.” 

Bob shook his head. No, he’d not met Angel in Sunnydale, but he’d darn sure met him in Los Angeles. He just hoped his expression didn’t give that little tidbit away. 

“Anyway. He’s apparently in a bad way.” How bad, Spike didn’t know. “He’s staying at the Bunkhouse Inn. Find him and take him someplace safe. Give him whatever he needs.” 

Bob nodded. 

Spike turned away and started towards the jet. He stopped after only taking a handful of steps. “Oh, and Bob? Watch your back. Angel isn’t sure whatever’s hunting him hasn’t given up yet.” 

As Spike climbed the steps, he pulled out his cell phone and placed a quick call to Doyle, telling him briefly that Angel had written and that he was sending Bob after the vampire. That Angel would probably be back in Los Angeles in a few days. 

“Thanks, Spike. And, I’m sorry about before.” 

Spike hung up without acknowledging his friend’s apology. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob had swallowed and nodded again at Spike’s warning, his mind racing. 

Some other lackey had already driven the limousine off the tarmac, so he jogged the short distance back to the hangar as the company’s jet engines increased their whine and it moved off to join the queue to leave Heathrow. At the hangar, he caught a lift with one of the airport workers back to the main terminal, using the time to pull out his cell phone and arrange transport on the next available flight to New York, and from there to Helena. 

Less than an hour later, he was ensconced in his first class seat. He placed a call to WT Enterprises and was connected with Amanda almost immediately. 

“Amanda, Bob here. I’m on my way to Helena. I’ll need a car when I land, something appropriate for the area and the climate, big, with tinted windows. Oh, and transfer some money into my personal account. Twenty grand should do for now—actually, make it thirty. Can you put together a short dossier on Augusta and email it to me? I’ll need to be able to get in and out of the city without drawing too much attention.” 

“It will be waiting for you when you land.” 

“Thanks, Amanda.” 

“No problem. Have a good flight.” 

Bob hung up and settled back for his transatlantic flight. He was asleep before the wheels lifted off the ground, taking advantage of the seven hour flight to get some rest; he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to sleep next and figured now was as good a time as any. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob squinted through the windshield and muttered under his breath as the huge snowflakes smashed into the glass and made his night vision that much worse. Compounding that was the fact that he was in unfamiliar territory, and he was the only one on the unlit two-lane road. It would be just his luck that he’d wind up in a ditch somewhere. 

His lips firmed and he gripped the wheel tightly in his hands. 

“Not gonna happen,” he muttered. 

Just when he thought he’d made a wrong turn somewhere – impossible given the lack of any other roads around – he saw a sign announcing his arrival at Augusta. 

“Thank god. Now if I can just find the motel.” 

Even as he voiced the thought aloud, the road became part of the main drag and he easily spied the Bunkhouse Inn a few blocks down on his left. Given the lateness of the hour, there was no one out and about in town, though as he continued driving down the street, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. 

His foot came up off the gas as Spike’s warning rang loud and clear in his mind. The SUV slowed and Bob narrowed his eyes, trying to find whatever it was that was roaming about. Much to his disappointment, whatever it was seemed to have disappeared, and he reluctantly pulled into the small parking lot of the motel. 

Now to figure out which room Angel was in. Not exactly the easiest thing, given that he couldn’t just knock on every single door. Determined – he’d yet to let the clan down in any assignment he’d been given thus far, and he damn sure wasn’t going to start with one given to him by Spike – Bob stepped out of the SUV and pulled on his parka to ward off the cold and snow. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel eyed the single set of headlights driving down Main Street with suspicion. Only in Augusta a little over a week and he was well aware of the natives’ habits – the sun went down and everyone locked up and went home. And, with the threat of the early season snow storm having been announced the day before, there’d literally been no one out and about since the first flake had landed on the ground. 

Ever since he’d left the demon compound behind, he’d been extra vigilant, all senses attuned to the environment, wondering if he was being followed. Just because he was now back among civilization didn’t mean he was relaxing his guard in the slightest. 

As the days had passed in relative quiet, Angel had begun to wonder if Spike was going to bother acknowledging his request for help, figuring Spike would have shown up by now if he was. Still, he’d give it a few more days, and if Spike didn’t show, he’d have to set out on his own. 

Shoving aside what could have been his disappointment, Angel ducked behind the building as the vehicle began to slow. His hackles rose; there was just something very suspicious in the way the SUV was moving down the street. 

His eyes narrowed as he watched the vehicle turn into the motel parking lot. Angel easily vaulted over a fence and hid behind a tree, waiting for the driver to get out and either confirm or ease his suspicions. The weather wasn’t helping him, unfortunately. The falling snow blurred his vision and the driver didn’t make things any easier when he slipped into his coat and pulled the hood up over his head before he turned in Angel’s direction. He was able to tell the person was human, however; the unmistakable sound of his heartbeat a dead giveaway. 

His mind wasn’t set at ease though. The human clearly looked out of place and when he moved off and paused before one door and then the next, Angel decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He closed in quickly, though obviously not quick enough as the man turned suddenly, right arm extended and holding a weapon. 

“That’s close enough.” 

Angel froze, brow knitting. He recognized the voice; he just couldn’t place it. Then the man lifted his head and Angel got a look at his face. 

“I know you.” 

“Angel?” Bob questioned, even as he lowered his gun and put it back in its holster. His hand dug into his pants pocket and he pulled out Spike’s ring. “Spike said to give you this.” 

At the man’s words, the tension that had Angel’s body strung tighter than a bow eased somewhat. His hand reached out and closed over the ring, taking it from the human’s grip. Spike had actually answered his call. For a minute there, Angel had wondered if Spike would honor their familial bond. 

“He came,” Angel whispered softly – too softly for the human to hear – as he slipped the ring on his finger, easily recognizing the Aurelian crest. 

“I’ve got supplies in the car,” Bob told the vampire. “We can leave now—that is, if you’re ready?” 

Angel nodded. “Go start the car. Let me get the others.” 

“Others?” Bob asked, but Angel was already gone, so he backtracked to the SUV and got inside. 

A few minutes later, Angel returned carrying a bundle in his arms; a young girl walked next to him. Bob hurried out of the car and helped Angel get everyone settled. He said nothing when Angel sat in the back with the girl instead of getting into the front passenger seat. Just shut the door and returned to his place behind the wheel. 

“There’s blankets in the back,” Bob told him. “Snacks too. So, where am I headed?” Bob glanced over his shoulder to look at the vampire, long used to not bothering to look in the rearview mirror. 

“South.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Bob had held his tongue while he drove, though the questions rattled around in his brain. He was almost positive that the bundle Angel held was indeed Hakan – honestly, who else could it be? – but the boy had yet to show his face, and seemed content to cling to the vampire resting wearily in the back seat. 

A slight detour to ensure that Faline had been reunited with her own kind and it was now just the three of them, and Bob couldn’t hold back. 

“You’ve found him,” Bob asked, indicating the child now stretched out alone on the back seat sleeping soundly. 

Beside him in the passenger seat, Angel nodded wearily, too weak to talk. 

“I guess this means we’re going to Japan.” 

“Japan? That’s where Alric is?” 

“That’s where they all are. It’s where the Clan goes to regroup. It’s the closest thing to home for them.” 

Bob glanced over at Angel as he started the SUV and put it in gear. The vampire was clearly in a bad way even with the blood packets he’d consumed, and Bob thrust his arm out in invitation. It wasn’t the first time he’d given up a pint for the cause, and doubtless it would be the last. 

Angel, however, refused out of hand, adamantly shaking his head. “No!” 

“Why not? It’s only a pint. Nothing I haven’t given before. See?” Bob waved his arm underneath Angel’s nose, showing him the healed scars. 

“No!” Angel said again, and this time there was a tinge of desperation to his voice. 

Bob reluctantly withdrew his hand. “Alright.” Instead, he pulled out his phone and rang headquarters. “Amanda, it’s Bob. I need three first class tickets to Japan leaving out of Houston for, say, ten o’clock.” That would give him enough time to get them to the airport and take care of a few details to ensure Angel and Hakan’s easy departure from the States – namely passports and clothes, and some blood for Angel. 

Angel looked askance and Bob smiled reassuringly. “The clan has a few humans among their employ. I’m one. Amanda is another. You don’t have to worry about our conversation being overheard either. The clan owns several companies; one of them specializes in surveillance equipment. The stuff we use is years ahead of what’s out on the market. Why don’t you lie back and get some rest? We’ll be in Houston in an hour.” 

Angel looked in the back seat and hesitated. 

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” Bob promised. “And,” he added before Angel could interject, “I’ll wake you if he starts to stir. It’s just an hour and you’re dead on your feet.” 

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” 


	23. Chapter 23

Alric was sitting outside on the small bench overlooking the man-made pond, Tala nestled on his lap, when the front gate to their home opened and three identical vehicles – black, with windows tinted nearly the same shade – pulled in and drove up the short drive to the small building that had been converted into a garage. His arms tightened instinctively around his Consort, causing her to whimper slightly, but he didn’t relax his hold. The urge to protect was ingrained, even though it was his family. He only hoped that their continued presence would see a relaxation in his vigilance. 

For now, he watched warily as doors opened and everyone climbed out. Alric couldn’t help but notice how everyone stopped and looked in his direction, until his sire said something and ushered them along the covered walkway leading to the main entrance to their home. He heaved a sigh at the slight reprieve, but knew it was just that. That he would be expected to put in an appearance – sooner, rather than later. 

Reluctantly, Alric rose to his feet, Tala held close to his chest, and started back to his room. He’d get his Consort settled and go greet his sire and the others. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy screwed up her eyes and attempted to make out what the others were staring at through the trees. It wasn’t necessary; she knew it was Alric. The bond she shared with him and the others was strong now that they were all together. 

The Matsu outlining one edge of the small lake made it difficult to see, however. She attempted to walk towards the bridge that led to the buildings that comprised their rooms, but was stopped by Spike. 

“Not yet, luv,” he murmured in her ear, and slung an arm around her shoulder, guiding her down the covered walkway. “Come on,” he called out to the others, effectively putting an end to everyone’s curiosity. 

They turned as one and followed without comment, though he knew it took some effort on their part. There was no way they could miss the distinct smell of claimed human that had tantalized their senses. 

Surprisingly, Alric met them as they entered the second building. Once a shinden hall, it had been converted to a large living area complete with a state of the art entertainment system. He stood stiffly, garbed in traditional kosode and hakama, and Buffy thought, almost nervously. 

Shrugging off Spike’s arm, she darted forward, uncaring that Alric’s demon was to the fore, and threw herself in his arms. 

“I missed you, Alric,” she mumbled into his neck, blinking back tears. 

Her emotions, already in an upheaval after the tearful goodbye with her mother, threatened to overwhelm her now that Alric was home and everyone was together again. With her near stranglehold on Alric, she missed seeing his demon melt away, how his eyes closed in relief as his arms wrapped around her back. She did let out a startled squeak which soon turned to laughter when he picked her up and swung her in a circle. 

“Missed you too, Buffy,” he replied, when he finally set her back on her feet. Then cursed rather loudly when she kicked him in the shin… hard. 

“Dammit! What was _that_ for?” 

“ _That_ was for worrying me.” 

Alric glanced at Spike, but his sire just shrugged. 

He was on his own. 

“I’m not some damn fledge, brat,” he informed her, crossing his arms over his chest to match her mutinous expression with one of his own. “I can take care of myself.” 

“And your consort?” 

Alric felt like he was kicked in the gut, and it was a minute before Buffy’s repeated apology – or the fact that she had her arms wrapped around him and was nearly cracking his ribs – sank in. 

“ _… didn’t mean it like that. Spike, tell him…_ ”

Alric’s gaze landed on Spike and there was no missing his look of concern. Everyone else was hovering nearby, waiting for some signal – either from him or Spike – to move forward. Something in his eyes must have betrayed what he was thinking because a moment later Spike was leading him towards one of the sleek couches located in the large room. 

The words came tumbling out once everyone was settled, and thankfully no one interrupted him. When he was finished there was stunned silence among the Clan. 

Buffy looked at the women in the group and as one they stood up and left the room. 

Alric knew where they were going, and what they’d find – Tala huddled under the covers clinging to the crystal wolf he’d bought her, oblivious to her surroundings. He just didn’t have it in him to object to their interference. Adam and the others left as well, no doubt to begin a search on Hakan. Part of him hoped that they’d find something he’d missed, but knew it was unlikely. Hakan was lost to him, which meant Tala was as well. 

The question now was whether or not she’d snap out of her trance if he turned her. And, if not, if he’d have the strength to dust her and ease her suffering. Then have Spike do the same for him.

“Get your katana, childe, and meet me outside.” 

Spike’s words startled him out of his silent contemplation, and Alric quietly nodded and stood to do as he’d been commanded. Truthfully, he looked forward to sparring with his sire. Needed it, in fact. 

For months now, he’d been solely focused on Tala, and his rage at her condition had slowly built with no outlet. It was one of the reasons, he now realized, that he’d been unable to shake off his demon. He wanted revenge for the slight done him. The demon in him demanded it and refused to be quelled until it was appeased. 

His family’s presence had eclipsed it for a time, but already, Alric could feel it rising up within him. 

~*~*~*~*~

It was almost dawn when Alric let himself into his bedroom and slid the door shut behind him. He stripped out of his kosode and hakama and tossed them into a corner to be thrown out with the trash tomorrow. With as many gashes as the garments had, they wouldn’t be fit to wear. 

Spike had not gone easy on him and his body bore the proof of that, littered as it was with cuts and bruises. But, it was the jagged bite marks to his neck that had finally given him the peace he craved, cowing the demon so that he wasn’t constantly struggling with himself. He barely paid any attention to the slight changes to the room Buffy and the others had wrought while he was otherwise occupied. Though, he did notice that Tala had been freshly bathed, and he marveled at how that had been accomplished without so much as a flicker of concern having been present in the bond they shared. 

He was too tired to question it, however, and did nothing more than crawl into bed beside Tala and drape his arm across her middle as he lay on his side facing her. Like every other night, she turned towards him and inched forward until she was plastered against his chest, completely unaware that she was doing it. He smiled as he brushed the hair away from her face then pressed his lips to her forehead. 

For once his sleep was untroubled by nightmares. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy was still awake when Spike returned to their room. For weeks she’d held her tongue, letting Spike think he was the only one that knew the reason behind Alric’s disappearance. She was looking for a fight now, especially after she’d put her foot in it with Alric earlier. 

Opening her mouth, she was set to light into her husband with both barrels as he walked in, but at the haunted look on his face, she gritted her teeth in frustration and turned away. Figuring a walk around the grounds would help ease her ire, Buffy grabbed her robe and headed for the door. 

Spike’s hand closed around her wrist. 

“Pet…” 

“Not now, Spike,” she snapped and yanked her arm free. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.” 

The lack of their bedroom door slamming detracted from her dramatic exit, she thought as she stalked down the hall and made her way outside, her bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor. 

Unbeknownst to her, she made her way to the bench overlooking the small pond – the same one to which Alric often brought his consort. 

Her shoulders slumped as she sat down. She didn’t want to fight with Spike, but he had to be made to see that he couldn’t keep secrets from her. Or attempt to anyway. It just caused her resentment to grow, driving an invisible wedge between them. 

She’d known for months now the true reason behind Alric’s disappearance, having practically sensed his desperation to help heal the girl he’d claimed as his own. Her blood bond was unique, in that distance made no difference when it came to reading her family – if she really concentrated – a trick that had taken her time to perfect. Something she readily admitted she’d not shared with the others, except Marcus because he was her guinea pig – but it was the one thing that kept her on a somewhat even keel with her Clan. She’d done her best not to exploit her gift, though, relying on Slayer instincts to know when to push. 

Though sometimes it happened without her meaning it to, probably because of all that experimenting. 

Because she knew it was Marcus creeping up behind her, rather than one of Spike’s other childer. Then, again, he’d always been more sensitive to her distress… and frustration. 

“What are you doing out here, Marcus?” 

Marcus snorted and plopped down on the bench beside her. “As if you didn’t know. Practically shouted at me to join you. Rather inconvenient timing, if you ask me.” 

“I did not—” 

Marcus’ quirked brow cut short her denial, and she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“What are _you_ doing out here, Buffy?” 

“Thinking.” 

“About?” Marcus prodded. 

“Just stuff.” 

“Uh huh. Like?” 

“I’m tired of him keeping things from me, Marcus,” Buffy snapped, then stood up. No need to identify who the “him” was. She turned around and glared at Marcus. “Or should I say that he _thinks_ he’s keeping things from me.” 

“So tell him. It probably won’t change his mind, but you’ll get it off your chest.” 

“I didn’t want to fight with him,” Buffy mumbled, unable to meet Marcus’ knowing look. 

“Spike’s a big vamp; he can take you shouting at him.” They all had at one time or another. 

“You didn’t see him, Marcus. This thing with Alric has really gotten to him. I didn’t help matters with my big mouth, either.” 

“Nobody believes you meant to hurt Alric. _Least_ of all, Alric,” Marcus told her, patting the space beside him and draping an arm around Buffy’s shoulder when she sat down. 

“Yeah…” Buffy didn’t sound convinced. 

The two lapsed into silence. The situation with Alric weighed heavily on their minds. 

“Well, it’s time for this vamp to get some sleep,” Marcus said some time later, eyeing the sky as it began to pinken with the coming dawn. 

“Goodnight, Marcus.” 

Marcus stood and stared down at Buffy, taking in her dejected pose – legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. He sighed, already imagining the foul mood his sire would be in if Buffy stayed away much longer, and how he’d likely take it out on anyone close at hand. 

“Spike’s not the only one keeping secrets, you know,” he added, just before walking off. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy flinched at Marcus’ parting shot and mentally stuck her tongue out at him. His laughter drifted back to her as he walked across the grounds and her own lips twitched in amusement. 

_‘Not fair,’_ she mentally informed him and could practically hear his response in her mind. 

_“Better you than me.”_

Buffy snorted and stood. He was right though; better to get things out in the open with Spike herself, rather than let it fester and have his childer endure his less than happy disposition. 

“I’m tired of you keeping things from me, thinking it’s for my own good,” Buffy announced as she entered their bedroom and shut the door. 

She watched as his brow arched – she really hated that at times – and he crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the headboard. 

“You’re my consort, my claimant, it’s for me to decide what’s—” 

“I’m also your _wife_ , Spike.” 

This time both brows rose. 

“Are you challenging my place—?” 

“As head of the Clan?” Buffy snorted. “No. I’m not stupid. I just want you to open up to me. I’m a big girl. I can handle stuff.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I can. And, it’s not like I don’t know anyway,” Buffy snapped. She froze, eyes going wide, at inadvertently letting the cat out of the bag. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. 

“What’s that, pet? Couldn’t quite hear you.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Please. You’ve got ears like a bat. You know very well what I said.” 

“Did you just compare me to a bat?” 

“Yeah? So? We’re talking about you not trusting me with things, not about what I may or may have not have said, which had nothing to do with your ears, so much as your hearing.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Buffy was ready to stamp her foot in frustration. “Dammit, Spike!” 

“Come here, Buffy.” 

“Nu uh. If I come over there, you’ll make me forget why I’m mad, and then we’ll end up arguing about this later. And don’t use your claim to make me come over there, because that’ll just piss me off.” 

She frowned at seeing that Spike had been debating doing just that. Then took a step backward and away as he stood and started towards her. 

“Uh uh. No!” Buffy told him, holding up her hands as if to ward him off. Spike being Spike ignored the gesture and crowded her up against the wall. “No fair,” she whined as he leaned into her neck and ran his tongue along the single set of bite marks that would never disappear. 

“Isn’t this the part where we make up?” Spike whispered in her ear, teasing the lobe with gentle nips of his teeth. 

“No… ah… _damn_ … Spike… stop. Stop.” She shoved – futilely – at his chest, attempting to put some distance between them. “You can’t make up until the argument is finished. And we weren’t finished.” 

“We weren’t?” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“You’ve expressed your feelings. I’ve taken it under advisement—” 

“Under _advisement_?” 

“And I promise to be more… open… with you.” 

“You make it seem like… like I’m asking the impossible.” 

Spike sighed and tilted Buffy’s chin up so they were eye to eye. “That we’re even having this conversation shows that I’m trying, pet. I’m not used to being questioned—by _anyone_ ,” he added before she could interrupt. “You’re my consort. It’s ingrained for me to protect you. That includes anything that might cause you heartache. If I keep things from you, it’s for that reason, and that reason alone. Not because I don’t trust you, or that I don’t love you.” 

“I just don’t like you keeping things from me.” 

“I know. And I’ve—” 

“Taken it under advisement?” 

“Something like that,” Spike replied, his lips twisting into some semblance of a smile. 

Several hours later, Buffy was just about to drift off to sleep – sated from Spike’s rather vigorous lovemaking – when he spoke. 

“You said you knew of Alric’s consort.” 

She sighed aloud and mentally added “memory of an elephant” to her list. 

“No chance you could just forget I said that?” 

His silence was her answer. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel watched as Hakan looked out the window as their plane began its descent into Kagoshima, pointing at various buildings that were lit up in the night sky. The boy’s child-like resilience astounded him, how he seemed to have dismissed from his mind the past months spent being bandied about from one demon master to another. His eyes were wide with awe at the thought of visiting a distant land and being reunited with his sister. 

He’d yet to apprise the boy of his sister’s condition and hoped that his decision to do so wouldn’t come back to bite him on the ass. 

The stewardess made one last pass through the first class cabin and returned to her seat as the plane prepared to land. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for another drink, but he figured he’d need his wits about him when he met Spike again. This time on the vamp’s home turf. 

The landing was accomplished with little fanfare, and Angel marveled over Bob’s talent with getting them through customs and their meager possessions loaded in a sturdy rental with relative ease. 

“How far is it to Spike’s home?” Angel asked as Bob pulled out of the parking space and into the traffic leaving the airport. 

“About thirty minutes, give or take.” 

“Do they know we’re coming?” 

“I haven’t spoken with them.” 

“So, you don’t know.” 

“No.” 

Angel lapsed into silence, but for the occasional response to Hakan’s exclamation at seeing something new. True to his word, Bob got them to Spike’s home in just under thirty minutes. 

The gate opened after Bob punched in a code to gain them access. Angel gaped at the scenery on the short drive to the garage. Given Spike’s brash personality, he’d been expecting something swank – totally over the top and exuding money, if not taste. Taking in the stately home and gardens, Angel realized he didn’t know Spike as well as he thought he once had. The buildings could have easily been built centuries before, and on closer examination, Angel would find that they probably had. 

He stepped out of the car and looked around. The grounds were immaculate and well-tended. The tranquil setting was aesthetically pleasing to the senses, and he found himself relaxing almost immediately, instinctively knowing that he was safe within the walls surrounding Spike’s home. 

“If you take Hakan to the teahouse, I’ll send Alric to you. Just cross the bridge over the lake. The teahouse is the small stand-alone building next to the man-made pond.” 

Angel nodded to Bob and felt Hakan’s hand slide in his own larger one. 

“Are we going to see Tala now?” Hakan asked, his voice uncertain as he took in his surroundings. 

“Yes.” 

He led the boy to the teahouse, all the while telling himself he had nothing for which to be nervous. 


	24. Chapter 24

Bob toed off his shoes and opened the sliding door, thinking to check the main living area first for Alric. At first glance, it appeared the room was deserted, and he turned and made for the Clan’s private quarters. 

“You want to tell me why Angel is here in my home and not back with Doyle in Los Angeles.” 

Bob froze. _Shit_. 

Of all the vampires he’d hoped not to encounter, Spike had been at the top of that list – at least until after he’d found Alric first. But, then, who was he to think he could pull one over on the master vampire? There were cameras placed discreetly throughout the grounds surrounding their home and his arrival would not have gone unnoticed – and given whom he’d brought with him – without comment to Spike. 

“Bob…” There was barely concealed anger as his name was growled. 

Bob turned around, taking note of Spike’s attire as he stepped into view, of how he literally looked the part of a fierce samurai as he stood there decked out in kosode and hakama, arms crossed over his chest, legs shoulder width apart. 

He swallowed, or attempted to with his suddenly dry mouth. 

“Angel found Hakan,” Bob stammered out. “I—I was just on my way to tell Alric.” 

“Who’s—? Never mind,” Spike replied, sensing the human’s impatience, and his desire to impart what was obviously good news to Alric. “Come on. Alric is in his room.” 

Bob practically ran through Spike’s home, afraid that if he didn’t hurry, Angel would change his mind and disappear with the boy. It wasn’t true in the slightest; Angel was in need of his own bit of healing and would have to spend some time – hopefully, at Spike’s insistence – convalescing in Japan. 

He just couldn’t help but think that with things finally going their way, something bad was bound to happen at any minute to mess everything up again. 

Outside Alric’s door, Bob ground to a halt and called out softly to him. A moment later, the door slid open and a disgruntled-looking Alric appeared. 

“Bob?” He was surprised to see Spike standing beside him. “Sire? What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Bob replied. “He found him! Angel found Hakan. They’re out at the teahouse waiting.” Bob nodded when Alric seemed not to believe him and stood rooted in the doorway. “Go!” 

“Go on, Alric. I’ll look after Tala,” Spike added quietly. 

Spike’s words seemed to snap Alric from whatever trance he’d been in, and uncaring of his partially dressed state, hurried from his room and out another door, one that would get him to the teahouse quicker. 

He spotted the boy almost immediately, and Alric slowed his pace as he approached, not wanting to scare him. The child hadn’t strayed far from Angel’s side, and the moment Hakan actually caught sight of him moving in his direction, he hurried to hide behind the vampire. 

Alric stopped several feet away and watched as Angel knelt down so he was at eye level with the boy and coaxed him to his side. Hakan refused to look Alric’s way, however, instead staring fixatedly at his hands that he was now wringing together nervously. 

“Hakan, this is Alric.” 

“The one you told me about?” the boy whispered to Angel, eyes still downcast, his small body pressed impossibly close to his protector. 

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “He’s been taking care of your sister. Protecting her from the bad monsters. Like I’ve been taking care of you. Remember?” 

“Is he like you? A good vampire?” 

Despite the tense situation, Angel couldn’t help but smile in response to Hakan’s question. He risked looking at Alric, and given the vampire’s stoic expression, Alric either hadn’t heard, or chose to ignore being lumped into the soul-having category. 

Angel returned his attention to Hakan and nodded. When the boy seemed to calm, Angel gained his feet and took a protective stance behind Hakan, going one further and placing a reassuring hand protectively on the his shoulder. “You’re safe. Nobody here will hurt you. I promise.” 

Hakan glanced up at Angel. Saw the vampire nod. 

“Would you like to see your sister?” Alric asked after a moment. 

“Can I?” Hakan asked Angel. 

“Of course. You remember what I told you? About your sister?” 

Hakan nodded solemnly. “But she’ll get better now, right?” 

“I hope so,” Angel replied. 

Alric silently agreed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The hallway was deserted – Spike stood in the doorway of what, Angel guessed, was Alric’s room looking less than pleased – as Alric opened the side door to usher Hakan and him inside. Angel didn’t blame Spike in the least, given how their last meeting went; he just hoped that Spike saw the boy as the peace offering it was meant to be, the apology he’d be unlikely to voice. 

Outside the door, Hakan hesitated, and Angel once more put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Go on,” he urged. “I’ll be waiting right outside for you.” 

A gentle push, and then Hakan was in the room, and once the boy caught sight of his sister under the covers, he hurried forward and climbed on the bed beside her. Hakan’s animated chatter, in what had to be their native tongue, drifted out into the hallway, and he sighed as he leaned back against the wall and waited; he’d not been sure how the boy was going to handle seeing his sister in such a state. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

The words jarred Angel back to the present, and he realized he’d been in some sort of daze. 

“Come on, then,” Spike said when he didn’t answer. 

The gruff words were tinged with concern and Angel hid a smile as he pushed away from the wall. He stopped though, remembering the boy. 

“Alric will look after him.” 

Angel nodded, but still hesitated. He’d made a promise to the boy’s grandmother. One he didn’t take lightly. 

He could sense Spike in front of him, felt his growing tension as Spike waited to see what he’d do. 

Finally Angel sighed and nodded again. He’d taken a leap of faith sending that letter to Spike and he’d not been let down. He had to trust that Spike would keep the boy safe while he healed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

As Angel and Spike walked away, Alric moved from his spot and quietly slid his door shut. While he’d secretly hoped that her brother’s presence would be enough to get Tala to wake up, some part of him had known that it wouldn’t be that simple. That it would take time to break through her defenses and get her to come around. 

It didn’t mean that he wasn’t frustrated, though he let none of that show as he resumed his place at Tala’s side. 

The boy was fading fast, his eyes already closed, though his mouth kept moving. Eventually, that, too, stopped, and he drifted off. 

For the longest time, Alric simply lay there, the rhythmic beating of Tala and Hakan’s hearts the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. At any other time, the slow cadence would be enough to lull him to sleep, but he was too worried about Tala’s lack of reaction to Hakan’s presence to give in to his exhaustion. 

Which was why Alric was awake in the predawn hours when Tala’s heart rate sped up briefly and he felt her body jerk in his arms. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Huh?” The girl twisted her head to the side. Her arms shook with the weight of keeping the rock – a rock easily ten times her size – from crushing her. Through her tears she could make out a boy the same age as herself._

_“What are you doing?” he asked again._

_“I can’t let go. I…” Her eyes squeezed shut as she strained under the rock’s weight, felt her knees begin to buckle. “I just can’t…”_

_“Tala!” The voice of her father, laughing in the distance. “Come away from there. It’s time to go home.”_

_“Tala… I wanna ride. Take me riding.” The boy again, tugging on her arm._

_“I… I… can’t. I have to… have to… can’t let it…”_

_“Please.”_

_In the blink of an eye, they’d left the rocky cliff behind and were racing headlong across the plains. She was older now, her body on the cusp of womanhood. Behind her, the boy held on for dear life, but his carefree laughter carried on the wind._

_“Faster, Tala. Faster!”_

_“Hold on!” she called out over her shoulder, then urged her mount to an even faster pace._

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala gasped and reached out blindly in front of her, Hakan’s name frozen on her lips. She scarcely dared to hope, but as her hands encountered… _something_ , she risked opening her eyes. 

_He’s alive! He’s really… here._

She wanted to touch his face, run her fingers through his hair, to see for herself that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination— 

“Don’t wake him,” a voice whispered in her ear, and it was only then that Tala realized she wasn’t alone. 

“I… I won’t.” 

Hakan mumbled in his sleep as she brushed her fingertips over his cheek, but didn’t waken. She smiled even as tears blurred her vision. 

“How—? I saw the truck explode.” 

“He wasn’t in it.” Alric waited a beat while she digested that, then changed the subject. “You should go back to sleep; it’s early yet.” 

Though she wasn’t tired, Tala nodded. What she really wanted was to turn in his arms and snuggle into his chest, thank him for finding her brother. She sighed and reluctantly closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift. 

At some point, she felt the hold on her lighten, and used the opportunity to slip free and get out of bed, careful not to wake either of them. The room she was in was unfamiliar, and it took her a minute to find something to cover herself – a white robe made from the finest silk. She pulled it on and belted it tight, then let herself out of the room, intent on finding, first a bathroom, and then, perhaps, the kitchen. The bathroom wasn’t hard to find, since it was the only door open, and Tala made quick use of it before setting out to explore her new surroundings. 

The kitchen was huge… and occupied. 

Tala gasped – she couldn’t help herself – as those baleful blue eyes seemed to bore into her soul. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Tala stammered out the apology, unsure what, exactly, she was apologizing for. 

“I—”

“Hungry?” he asked, and he smiled, his whole demeanor changing. 

“Starved, actually,” Tala confessed. “I felt like I haven’t eaten in weeks.” 

“Cook’s still asleep, but I could probably manage some eggs.” 

“Oh! I don’t mind cooking, uh, that is, if that’s okay?” 

Spike smirked and gestured to the refrigerator. “Help yourself.” 

Tala’s strength lasted long enough for her to fry up some scrambled eggs and scoop them out onto her plate. The plate would have gone flying as she stumbled and nearly fell on her way to the table, if not for the quick reflexes of the man – vampire, she guessed – leaning against the counter. 

“Need a bloody keeper,” he muttered as he rescued the plate and her and got it set at the table and her in a chair. 

“Sorry,” Tala murmured, eyes on her plate, appetite suddenly gone. 

Spike grunted and resumed his position at the counter and finished his blood. His brows narrowed when the girl continued to sit there staring at her food. 

“Eggs are getting cold.” 

The girl jerked slightly in her chair, but otherwise ignored him. 

“Tala, eat your food.” 

The stern words broke into Tala’s thoughts, and she’d grabbed her fork and scooped up a mouthful of eggs before it even registered she was doing so. In a matter of minutes, the plate was empty and she was leaning back in her chair, pleasantly full. A glass of orange juice was plucked down on the table in front of her, and Tala smiled her thanks before drinking it down. 

“Better?” 

“Much,” Tala replied without thinking. 

“Good. You’ve barely eaten these last months. I’m surprised you had the strength to walk from your room to the kitchen without doing a header.” 

“Months? What day is it?” 

“The twentieth of September.” 

“ _September_?” Tala whispered. 

“September,” Spike confirmed. 

Tala wanted to say more, ask more, but she felt another presence in the room, and she knew without turning that it was him, the vampire who owned her. 

At his less than pleased expression, everything came back to her in a rush – the slave farm, Glarshnic’s training, being sold – and she scrambled out of her chair and shrugged out of her robe to kneel naked before her master. 

She barely registered the growled out “Alric!” by the vampire she’d been speaking with, too busy trying to keep her body from quivering in fear at the beating she was soon to receive for being caught acting as anything other than a slave. 


	25. Chapter 25

Alric ignored his sire’s growl of displeasure, his eyes focused on the girl kneeling naked before him. Frozen for just a moment before being galvanized into action, Alric sank to his knees in front of Tala to draw the robe she’d hastily thrown aside back around her shoulders. He gazed up at his sire then, saw the “fix this now” clearly written on his face. 

“Get up off the floor, Tala,” Alric coaxed, his eyes flitting somewhat nervously between the two, as he drew her up and tucked her against his side. Unsure how to proceed exactly, he added, “I see you’ve met my sire.” 

Tala nodded against his shoulder; Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. 

Alric frowned at the lack of understanding by his sire. He was clearly floundering and he was getting no help, from either of them. 

“Did you… uh… get enough to eat?” Alric asked, spying the empty plate and glass at the table, and figuring it a safe enough topic. 

“Yes, master.” 

Or so he’d hoped. 

The words were quietly whispered, but easily heard by both vampires. If Alric thought Spike was upset before, it paled in comparison to the look he was receiving now. Somehow he managed not to flinch and told Tala, “My name is Alric.” 

Tala said nothing in reply, did nothing either for that matter but remain passive at his side, and Alric sighed. He definitely had his work cut out for him. 

Though he spoke to Tala, his eyes were on his sire as he asked, “Would you like to take a walk? I can show you around our home. Hakan is still sleeping and the others will keep an eye on him if he does wake up.” 

Alric heard the brief acceleration of Tala’s heart at the mention of her brother’s name, though she answered him evenly enough. 

“If that is what you wish.” 

The “master” was left hanging in the air, unspoken but clearly understood, and Alric clenched his jaw, gave a brief nod in deference to his sire, then led Tala away. 

It wasn’t until they were standing outside that Alric realized that Tala was barefoot, so he carried her from place to place, only setting her back on her feet for brief periods of time so that she could explore for a bit the different areas of his home he happened to point out. Finally he stopped at one of the benches overlooking the small pond and sat down, settling Tala comfortably on his lap. 

For a long while, Alric said nothing, and it was quiet, save for the night sounds of Japan, muted though they were thanks to the tall fence surrounding their home. He stared down at the girl who’d come to mean so much to him, wondering if they could get beyond the events of this past year, wondering if he could make her understand… everything. 

Sighing, he drew her attention away from the pond, a gentle hand upon her chin to get her to look him in the eye. 

“You were never a slave, Tala,” he told her. “At least not to me. I had planned on letting you go after the weekend was over. My buying you gave me an in, a means of discovering who was behind the human auctions. I bit you…” Alric paused, remembering the pseudo-claim he’d made as well as the possessive rage that had gripped him when the vampire had dared ignore it. “I bit you that first time because they needed to see that I had marked you. I never meant… I never meant to make it permanent. To claim you in truth.” 

It had complicated things, his having claimed her. Theirs was a secret existence. A life spent in shadow, comfortable though it may be. Claiming a human, and one with… _attachments_ , no less, hadn’t been the wisest move. 

But the demon had taken hold and overridden his common sense. Made him throw caution to the wind and to hell with the consequences. 

Alric still had much more to tell her. What had happened that final day at the auction, his unrelenting search for her brother once he’d discovered the reason behind her near catatonic state. Other, more personal things. 

But Tala squirmed in his lap like she wanted to get up, and Alric reluctantly let her go. 

She stood up and squared her shoulders, lifted her chin haughtily even as she stared down at him. He could easily picture the long line of fierce Indian warriors that ran through her veins. 

“I’m not a slave?” she asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. “You don’t own me?” 

Alric shook his head, his face carefully blank. His deception had been distasteful, but necessary. But in his mind’s eye, the girl had never been property, at least not in the strictest sense. His demon, on the other hand— 

“Then I want to go home. I’m taking my brother and we’re leaving.” 

She took off before Alric could respond – or object – unerringly finding her way back to the building, even in the dark. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

_“I never meant to make it permanent.”_

The words kept ringing in her ears, and Tala didn’t stop running until she’d located Hakan. Ignoring the people – vampires, no _demons_ , she firmly reminded herself – milling about inside, she darted from room to room, finally finding her brother playing quietly on the floor with a few action figures. Another vampire was sitting nearby, a book in his hand, but he put it aside and looked at her questioningly as she entered the room. 

“Hakan, find your shoes. We’re leaving,” she informed her brother somewhat desperately, completely ignoring the vampire. 

Hakan opened his mouth, to argue or to ask questions, but Tala cut him off before he could do either. 

“ _Please_ , Hakan. Just get your shoes.” 

It was the vampire that gave her pause, however. 

“How do you expect to get home? You have no money, no identification.” 

“I… I hadn’t thought of that. I just… I’ve got to get out of here. I—” 

Tala wrung her hands together anxiously. 

Angel stood and guided the girl – who, surprisingly, offered no protest – over to the chair he’d vacated. 

“Sit… before you fall down. You’ve been through a lot. You’re still weak and you need to rest. What does Alric have to say about your leaving? I mean…” Angel’s voice trailed off awkwardly as all semblance of weariness seemed to disappear and the girl made to stand. “Uh… that is… Ummm… Never mind. Look. If you’re set on leaving, I’ll take you and Hakan home. Just give me a day or two to regain my strength first. Alright?” 

“I don’t need your help.” 

“You’ll have it just the same. Nana entrusted the boy into my care until he is of age. He’s my responsibility now.” 

“What? She—” 

“Nana told me the words I’ll need to speak before the Council of your tribe. And before you object,” Angel added, seeing her about to object, “I take my oath very seriously. Besides, it was her wish that I look after Hakan.” _Her last wish_ , he didn’t say. 

Tala stiffened at what the vampire wasn’t saying, at least not in front of her brother. Though, seeing the expression on Hakan’s face when he lifted his head, he knew very well what had happened. 

“I… uh…” 

Tears filled her eyes at the thought of Nana’s death, this on top of everything else she was already dealing with, and she looked away from both her brother and the vampire as she tried desperately to blink them back. She didn’t hear the vampire move, but she felt his hand on her shoulder a moment later. 

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to your room and let you sleep. Hakan will be safe here with me.” 

Tala allowed herself be pulled to her feet, and she offered up no resistance as she was led from the room back to the bedroom she shared with Alric, her mind reeling over the fact that she was now alone in the world, unsure how she was going to take care of herself, and her brother as well. 

“I’m Angel,” she heard him say. Felt him pat her shoulder somewhat awkwardly in sympathy as he offered his condolences at Nana’s death. He didn’t explain how she died, only that she had, and on some level Tala knew there was a story there, but couldn’t see it for everything else that seemed to be crowding in on her. 

A few minutes later, she was tucked beneath the covers still wrapped in her robe. The only sign of grief she exhibited at discovering her mother figure’s passing was the tears that fell silently from her eyes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel wasn’t surprised to find Alric in the hallway as he exited the vampire’s bedroom. Tala’s despair was a tangible thing and there was no way Alric wouldn’t respond to the need from his Claimant. 

“I’ll keep the boy with me,” Angel told him in lieu of a greeting, moving off down the hallway at Alric’s terse nod. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Alric let himself into the bedroom and quietly slid the door shut. Tala was tucked beneath the covers, softly crying in her sleep. He was half tempted to go after Angel and add to the bruises he was already sporting for adding to his Claimant’s pain, but didn’t. 

For one thing, he was deeply indebted to the vampire for finding Hakan, and at considerable injury – both physically and mentally – to himself. 

For another, Tala’s need overrode any desire he had for payback against his perceived wrong. She whimpered softly and Alric shrugged out of his clothes and slid into bed behind her. 

He shuffled forward until his front was pressed up against her back; a soft, soothing growl emanated from his chest. His hands closed around the ties to her robe and he had it off her in a matter of moments. 

Alric would have been content to just hold her, but she turned in his arms and unconsciously bared her neck. 

Whispered “Alric” instead of “master”. 

His eyes moved from the pulse beating away at her throat to her face. Took note of her slumberous gaze that could not hide her need. 

“Tala,” he murmured before claiming her lips with his own. 

Alric refused to give in to his demon’s burning desire to reassert his claim. Memories of their first time together had him taking his time, instead. Treating her body to soft kisses and gentle touches, skating over flesh that seemed eager for his attentions, so that when he finally settled between her thighs and slid home, she was raising her hips to meet him. Twin moans of pleasure could be heard when he’d pushed in as far as he could go. She wrapped her legs around his waist then, determined to hold him close. 

His movements were slow, unhurried, like the press of slick muscle against his cock wasn’t driving him mad. His fangs ached with the need to taste, and he bit his bottom lip to prevent doing so. 

This was about her pleasure. Her need. 

His eyes bled to an amber hue, the only sign of his struggle to control the demon within. And he was successful… until he felt her clutch at his shoulders, felt her arch against him as she gasped in surprise, felt her body begin to shudder in the beginnings of her climax. 

Alric’s face shifted as the demon refused to be cowed a moment longer. Growled in triumph as he stared down at Tala’s flushed face. Her eyes were closed, yet her lips were curved in a slight smile. And he basked in that for just a moment before the needs of his body took over and he began to move in earnest. His gaze honed in on his mark and he lowered his head, teased the raised flesh on her throat with his tongue. 

Being bathed in the scent of his Claimant, her body replete and buzzing with sexual satisfaction, filled Alric with such happiness and contentment, that he did nothing more than kiss the marks that proclaimed Tala as his, then closed his eyes as his release washed over him. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Two days later, the feeling of happiness and contentment Alric had felt in that moment was but a distant memory. He stood, unmoving but for the slight clenching of his jaw, as the sleek black car reversed slowly out of the garage and drove off, down the drive and out the gate, while the entire time the demon within him raged. 

“Let’s go.” 

His sire’s voice was terse, spoken low, for his ears alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy, her mouth open in silent protest, before closing it without saying anything. He knew she was looking at him, eyes full of sorrow and understanding. That she stood there for a moment before returning to the house with the others. 

Spike had walked off towards the back of the house, and Alric knew he was headed to the raised, square wooden platform. His eyes closed momentarily and when he opened them, he wanted nothing more than to see the front end of the car that had just left, the one now bearing Angel, Tala, and Hakan to the airport. He sighed when nothing greeted him but the lush landscape of their home and the eerie quiet. 

His shoulders slumped and he turned to follow after his sire. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Did you get him to change his mind?” Buffy asked. She winced at seeing the cuts and bruises to Spike’s face, and could only guess at the damage his clothes hid. Alric had been on a hair trigger, and knowing her husband like she did, she imagined that he’d pushed every button to make Alric lose the cool exterior he seemed determined to maintain. 

Spike grunted as he closed the door to their bedroom. His body ached, though not unpleasantly. Alric had given as good as he’d gotten, though it had taken his childe a bit to get into the swing of things, and that only because of his verbal assault. 

_“You claim the girl and then you just let her walk away? Have I taught you nothing, Alric? We’re vampires and we make no apologies for that fact.”_

_“She didn’t have a choice. I manipulated the claim.”_

_“Do you honestly believe that? Childe, you have a lot to learn. She’s yours. She’s tied to you until you’re but dust. Are your affections so fickle—?”_

_Spike was rocked back by the punch to his jaw, and he grinned that he’d managed to break through Alric’s calm façade so easily, tapping into the demon’s unrest. For the next half hour, they’d traded blows as Spike tried to rid Alric of his festering rage._

He stepped out of his clothes and climbed into bed beside the Slayer, kissing her bare shoulder as he drew her back into his arms. 

“He’ll go after her. Soon is my guess. Her being under Angel’s protection doesn’t sit well with him. With me either, for that matter.” 

“The boy belongs to him. In the eyes of her people—” 

“Tala belongs to Alric, and by extension, me.” 

Buffy bit her lip to keep from smiling. Spike’s blustering was really rather cute. 

“You could have made Angel stay…” 

“Bite your tongue, Slayer.” 

“I’m just saying. With Hakan here—” 

“No.” He wasn’t quite ready to deal with Angel on a fulltime basis just yet. 

Buffy sighed. “I just don’t like seeing Alric unhappy.” 

“There are some things you and I can’t fix. Alric will have to work it out on his own.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Tala stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the face that stared back at her. Gone was the bleached white hair. The first thing she’d done after returning stateside was have it dyed back to its natural black color; she’d gone one further and had it cut so that the ends now brushed her shoulders. She wanted no lingering memory of her time spent in captivity, and the unnaturally colored, long locks were a constant reminder of just that. 

Ignoring the haunted look in her eyes, she turned away and gasped at finding Angel leaning against the bathroom doorframe. 

“You hurt him when you left,” Angel commented, gesturing with a nod at her hand, the one that covered the marks on her neck. 

Tala refused to meet his eyes when she replied. “He said he didn’t mean to do it.” 

Angel’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. 

“Then he lied. Trust me, Alric doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He wants you. He was in hell trying to figure out what was wrong with you, and then once he did, he moved heaven and Earth trying to find your brother, chasing down every lead, no matter how trivial.” 

“You’re wrong. And besides, we barely know each other.” 

“They have a word for that, you know.” 

Tala looked at Angel enquiringly. 

“Fate.” 

Angel saw her eyes tear up, how she blinked them away even as she shook her head, denying what he said. He sighed and pushed away from the doorjamb, closed the distance and took her hand in his, pulling it away from where she tried to hide the marks on her neck. 

“Did Alric—did no one explain to you what these mean? No?” Angel sighed. “Tala, forever is a long time to willingly tie yourself to someone for no reason. Alric saw something in you, something that called to his demon. But you ought to know, a claim isn’t just one-sided. You said yes. Which means, you saw something in him as well.” 

“I… uh…” Her voice trailed off, figuring to deny her feelings would be futile. She latched onto something else Angel said instead. “You said… _forever_?” 

“Come on.” Angel dropped Tala’s hand and turned away to head towards his makeshift kitchen. If Alric didn’t come soon, he was going to have to look into upgrading to a bigger home. “Let’s get you something to eat. This is going to take a while.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel let himself out of his apartment and shut the door, then leaned back against it and exhaled heavily. Explaining the nuances of Alric’s claim had taken some doing, and even now, he wasn’t quite sure Tala fully grasped the ramifications of bonding herself to a vampire. 

He blamed Spike for the current mess he was in. There was no way Spike would have let him leave Japan with Tala without some ulterior motive. Hakan, yes, because even Spike would respect Angel’s claim on the boy, no matter how much he might protest out loud. 

“You smell like my Claimant, Angel.” 

Angel crossed his arms and glared in the direction the voice had come from. At least now he knew Spike’s motives. Jealousy, pure and simple. He would have laughed at the simplicity of Spike’s plan, except he’d already gone toe-to-toe with the vampire that sounded like he was out for blood, and didn’t really care for a repeat. 

“You shirk your responsibilities and then have the nerve to growl at me?” he snapped as Alric came into view. He pushed away from his door to confront the vampire. “I’ll have to have a talk with Spike. I could have sworn he would have taught you to respect your elders. Especially one that has spent the last few hours consoling your Claimant. What the hell were you thinking, Alric? You _‘didn’t mean to claim her’_? You can’t honestly be _that_ dumb! Tearing out her heart would have caused that girl less pain. Now go in there and fix your mistake, and just pray she lets you. I’m going to get a drink.” Muttered under his breath as he stalked off, “Lord knows I deserve it.” 

~*~*~*~*~

“I lied to you.” 

The words startled Tala out of her silent reverie; the book that lay open on her lap slid to the floor with a soft thunk. She opened her mouth to speak but Alric cut her off. 

“I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. From the moment I first saw you I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I made a decision right then that you were going to be mine. So I bought you and took you back to my hotel. The entire time I told myself that you were just a means to an end, someone that would give me credibility with the other demons and the people running the auction. That I’d let you go when it was over. But it was a lie. I was going to take you away when everything was over. Take some time to get to know you, and for you to know me. Do things the right way, the human way.” 

“Why—?” 

“Let me finish. Please.” She nodded and Alric took a breath and then continued. “I’m a vampire, Tala. I’ve lived a long time, and have benefited from having a sire that is deeply in love with his Claimant. That affection extends to each of his childer. I saw you, and I knew in an instant that we could have that, and I was going to give you the time to get used to the idea… of being with me. When I tasted you that first time, it… I just _knew_. You were it. And you must have known too. Sometime it’s just—” 

“Fate.” 

“Fate. Destiny. Kismet. Call it what you will. You’re mine, Tala. There’s no going back.” He knelt before her and lifted a hand to her cheek. “Tell me you understand. Please, Tala—” 

“Shhhh.” Tala pressed a finger to his lips. She smiled then, her heart in her eyes. “I understand.” 

She knew that they still had things to talk about, but they would figure it out together. For now, she just basked in the feel of Alric’s arms closing around her. 

He’d come for her, like Angel had said he would. 

The End.


	26. Epilogue

Angel let himself into the apartment and smothered the smile that threatened to appear at the bemused look on Alric’s face. The vampire was sitting on the couch and Hakan was chatting away excitedly at his feet, explaining – or attempting to explain – the current program on television, a Japanese cartoon. 

Such hadn’t always been the case, however. It had taken weeks before Hakan had felt comfortable being around the vampire, and that only because of Angel’s constant presence, months before he’d actually uttered more than a quick hello, and that because of Tala’s insistence. 

In the days following Alric’s arrival in Los Angeles, Angel had begun searching for a new place to live, one that would adequately house the four of them – because he’d not doubted for one second that Tala would want to stay with Hakan, and where Tala went, Alric followed. Angel had adamantly refused to return to Japan, no matter how much Alric had railed at him to do otherwise. Alric had relented, finally, but only because of the nightmares that continued to plague Hakan. 

“He’s not ready to be around anyone else,” Angel had ground out late one night, early in his search for a home. “He tolerates your presence, but that’s only because of Tala. If I’m not here… if Tala’s not here— No. I’m sorry, Alric. I have to think about Hakan’s peace of mind. He’s been through enough already.” 

There’d been a tense silence, and then Alric had walked out of Angel’s small apartment, not returning until the early hours of the morning. He’d said nothing as he’d bypassed Angel on the way to the bedroom to check on Tala, but had dropped a set of keys in his lap, the brief clank of metal on metal the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. 

Angel had sighed, wondering at the lengths Alric had gone to find something so quickly, and who he’d had to involve. Two days later, they’d moved into their new place, a three-bedroom top floor condominium. The place had been fully furnished, except for the room Hakan would use, Alric figuring – and Angel having agreed – the boy would sleep easier by being able to choose how he’d like to have his room decorated. Yet, even with the all-day shopping excursion the next day, it had been weeks before Hakan hadn’t come scurrying into Angel’s room on a nightly basis, having been woken by nightmares of his time spent in captivity. 

Tala had been no less troubled, but for entirely different reasons, though she’d hidden it behind a brave exterior and a tremulous smile for Angel’s benefit. 

It had been an uneasy time, the four of them adjusting to living together. Angel had tried not to interfere with the tentative relationship between Tala and Alric, concerning himself only with Hakan and his progress towards behaving as a boy his age should. He’d walked around on eggshells that first month, giving the two the space they needed to work out their problems on their own. 

When he could finally stand it no longer – Tala’s longing sighs before retiring, Alric’s prickly nature that evening when both ventured forth from their shared room – Angel had taken the other vamp out and had a talk with him. 

The two had gone patrolling, and it was only once they were in the swing of things that Angel had told Alric, among other things, to get his head out of his ass. Alric had paused, mid-punch, to glare at Angel. 

“She’s my Claimant—” 

“You’re thinking like a demon, Alric,” Angel had huffed out after kicking his opponent in the stomach. “Tala’s human, with human ideations. _Female_ ideations.” 

Angel hadn’t said any more, letting the vampire figure things out on his own. Alric had, and there’d been a whirlwind trip back to Tala’s home and a proper ceremony, at night, of course, to accommodate the groom and his guest. 

Tala had made for a beautiful bride, wearing the white beaded dress her mother had worn at her own wedding. 

After that, things had settled down into some semblance of normalcy, or as much as could be expected for two vampires and two humans living under the same roof. Tala had taken it upon herself to home school Hakan, not trusting her brother out of her sight for any length of time unless he was with Angel. At which point, Alric had pushed for them to return to Japan so he would benefit from the Clan’s resources. 

There’d been arguments, numerous arguments on the subject, and Angel always knew it was time to take Hakan and beat a hasty retreat when Alric’s nostrils would flare. They’d return much later, and Tala and Alric would be all smiles and the matter tabled… until the next time the subject came up. 

Secretly, Angel was pleased that Tala always won the argument. He wasn’t quite ready to spend any length of time in Spike’s presence, and there was no question that if Hakan went, Angel would follow. Though, to give Spike credit, he’d been a gracious host during their brief stay, and the hostility that had comprised so much of their relationship in the past had been absent. 

“Hello, Angel,” Tala called out, the first to notice his presence. 

Hakan was a bit more exuberant in his greeting, shouting Angel’s name as he jumped up and raced to his side. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Angel ruffled the boy’s hair. “Are you all packed?” 

Tala had finally relented and they were going to spend the summer in Japan, with plans to extend their visit indefinitely. 

“Yep. Alric said I can sit up with the pilot until it’s time to take off.” 

Angel laughed. “He did, did he? Sounds like fun.” 

“How did your meeting go with Doyle?” Alric asked as Angel sat down. 

The smile left Angel’s face. “It didn’t. He wasn’t there.” 

“Wasn’t there?” 

“No. I went by his place and took a look around. Nothing seemed out of order. Still…” Angel hesitated. Doyle had seemed distracted the last time they’d spoken, but he’d dismissed it from his mind, though in hindsight now— 

“I can put Steve on standby and we can try to find him.” 

The knock at the door prevented Angel from replying. He stood and walked to the door, wondering who it could be as only a handful of people knew where he lived. 

“Doyle!” he gasped, eyes flicking from his disheveled appearance to the person – woman – slumped against his side, one arm holding hers around his neck, the other wrapped around her waist. 

“Hey, Angel. A little help here.” 

Angel darted forward and relieved Doyle of his burden, easily sweeping the girl up into his arms. The dark mane of hair shifted, revealing the ashen face of Cordelia. 

It was only once he’d gotten the girl settled on the couch that he turned and pinned Doyle with a hard look. One that said, “Start talking, and now”. 

“Looks like I’ll be coming with you to Japan,” Doyle sighed. “Me _and_ the little cheerleader here. Meet the Powers’ new seer.” 


End file.
